Of Impassioned Times
by Mitaci Cpt
Summary: Standing before the estate of Ubuyashiki Kagaya, Insect Hashira Shinobu Kochou hands her fellow Demon Slayer and longtime friend Giyuu Tomioka a memoir detailing her most precious feelings and memories. A story about the life, woes, and romances of a girl and the man she loves, and everything in-between. Giyuu x Shinobu [In-Progress] [Manga Spoilers]
1. Intermediary

**Demon Slayer is the property of Koyoharu Gotouge and all related entities. I do not own any of these characters - I'm just a fan who likes to write.  
**

_Italics _are thoughts – in this chapter, it's Giyuu's.

* * *

Intermediary  
February 1922

* * *

"Tomioka–san?"

The voice was soft yet demanded urgency. Giyuu Tomioka, the man who adorned a mismatched haori and a cold demeanor, turned around to face its bearer. His eyes narrowed.

"Shinobu," he affirmed.

Shinobu Kochou; Insect Hashira of the Demon Slayers and its head doctor – she went by numerous titles, and even more names. But meaningless honorifics they were; empty monikers. Between each other, such things meant nothing.

"…We've finally cornered Muzan," Shinobu said wistfully, making her way to Giyuu's side, staring at the inferno before them. "Ubuyashiki… I can only hope his sacrifice was worth it."

"It was – it must," Giyuu replied, keeping his tone neutral, devoid from feeling. But he knew she had something else to say. She always did, in times like these.

Back then, too.

"I have something to give you. Here."

Shinobu produced an envelope from her sleeve, fashioned out of beige parchment and stamped on it in wax, a wisteria crest. She handed it to Giyuu, who palmed it with caution.

"What's this?"

She didn't reply.

"Shinobu?"

"…There's a chance I won't be walking out of this battle alive," she answered, a distant melancholy clouding her voice, "if that happens, I want you to read what's in–"

"**Shinobu,"** Giyuu warned, cutting her off, looming over her, "you should know me by now. You should know that I'd do everything in my power to prevent that from happening."

"And you should know _me_, Giyuu – and that you're not going to stop me. I have to fight him – to put an end to _his _cursed legacy, once and for all. **Alone.**"

_Giyuu._

_How long has it been since she called him that?_

_Just yesterday, perhaps._

_Or maybe it was a lifetime ago._

"What - what makes you have to fight _him _by yourself?

_That man._

_Upper Moon Two; Douma._

_Or what's left of him._

Giyuu loomed over Shinobu, silently cautioning with her with his presence – and yet…

A part of him knew that it would come to this. It was a subdued curse – a silent curse – that was placed on him that fateful night, in the forbidden palace, by a man, which he had up until that point in his life, called an enemy. A curse – which he did not acknowledge immediately, but one that came as a heart–breaking realisation in the days following his failure to settle the pact that had consumed the vast majority of his adolescence, starting all those years ago.

It was… a curse that tore him apart from the inside. A curse – that ripped his heart to shreds. A curse that came to because of his own sheer _stupidity_ – failing to see what had been right in front of him; signs of what was to come, signs presented in the time he spent with the two women he loved the most, in that dreamscape akin to heaven.

It was just yesterday, only yesterday, that the curse had been broken, and they had confided in each other, taking solace in their compassion for one another, and enjoying a moment of release that they had always sought, unknowingly – before bidding their farewells, and setting off on their separate paths once again.

Only to run right back into each other.

"Giyuu," Shinobu whispered, placing her hand on his cheek, "please… don't make this any harder than it needs to be. We both know that _this_…is unavoidable. Even if I didn't want to fight, I… wouldn't have a choice."

_A fate determined; the mandate of a curse._

_Revenge._

_Such a shallow goal._

_A shallow goal – in which himself and too many others were stuck so deep in._

_Something so easy to get yourself sucked into._

_To live for the sake of watching someone else die._

_But this was different._

"Stay with me, then," he replied, bringing her closer, "and we'll fight him, together – as we've always aspired and toiled to do."

Indeed – the divergence in that path was the one thing Giyuu feared the most, and it was the reason he, in all his sorrow and depravity, silently wished the curse would have never been lifted. The hidden divergence in the path; of which both sides led to the same fate. And so, when Shinobu approached him a few moments earlier, and the split in the trail became so painfully obvious…

Giyuu Tomioka came to realise how utterly powerless he was.

And yet – he refused to give up.

"Douma is already dead," Shinobu said, "the man you, no, _we_ called our enemy no longer exists. The being that exists today is but a phantom. As a result, the crusade which we shared – has now become only mine to bear."

_No._

_That's not it._

_I know you, Shinobu._

She pulled herself away from him, penitent.

"…You won't be coming with me, Giyuu," she declared, "I have to do this alone, without _you._ Because…"

_No. Don't say it._

"If… if I were to lose you, I wouldn't be able to live with it. But, if it was the other way around, I'm sure–"

"**Just… just be quiet." **Giyuu spat the words – snarled them – distancing himself from her with a warning hand. Immediately, he felt bad. But he couldn't let himself falter.

Not now.

Shinobu turned away, at a loss for words.

"If you're so worried, Kanao will be coming with me."

"Kanao? But she's…"

_Weak?_

_No._

_For her age, she is impalpably strong._

_But she's inexperienced, and foolhardy, and this is life and death._

He began to feel it slip…

"But still–"

"But still what, Giyuu?"

…What he had been fighting to re–obtain all these years.

Yes.

He was indeed powerless; he was indeed helpless.

A mere pebble in a merciless, unstoppable current. A minute speck in the grand scheme of the world.

It's true that he was flawed to the core, and that he did little to rectify those flaws. It's true that when those he cared about needed him the most, he was gone.

Giyuu despised himself for it – **hated **himself – but with the passage of time, he had grown to accept it. And in a way, he hoped Shinobu would've come to terms with her own demons, too.

But – it seemed she had not.

And so, the only things he could offer her now were his heartfelt, genuine feelings.

"Shinobu, I–"

"Yes, Giyuu, I know. I can only imagine what it was like to be the only one carrying those emotions and sentiments for all those years." Shinobu took Giyuu's hand and intertwined it with hers. "I'm… sorry that I wasn't there to share the burden. Because of my own selfishness that day."

_That day – in purgatory._

_When I'd lost everything, and everyone._

_All – except for a single person._

_Until she left, too._

And then, it began to dawn on him. Shinobu – was going to leave. The beacon of innocence he cherished was now embarking on the path of blood; of no return. Just as she had, all those years ago. With the desperation beginning to seep in, he did the only thing he could.

Slowly, and with utmost care, he untwined his hands from hers, and placed them on her shoulders. And then, he drew in for a kiss.

It was an insistent kiss –

An urgent kiss –

A yearning kiss.

And he began to wonder… what drove him to do that?

Was it the urgent pangs of love, clawing its way to the surface? Or was it an act of sheer desperation; the final beck and call of a man at his wit's end?

An arc shot through his lungs; electricity coursed under his skin. Ecstasy filled his body, and his lips tingled and burned with touch. They pulled away, but not too far. Shinobu looked beautiful under the quivering moonlight, and Giyuu couldn't take his eyes off her, not even for a second. The way her dainty, alluring figure curved into his arms; the manner in which her cheeks flushed and burned with such guilty pleasure as she turned away, bashful. Indeed – if only they could stay like this forever. Just him… just Shinobu.

But it simply could not be.

Just like everything, and everyone else he had once cherished.

"Giyuu, if you still long for those impassioned times, then that letter is all I can offer you." She smiled, sadly. "Let me… take the fall for once. The role which you have been forced to bear so many times."

She caressed his cheeks, before her arms fell limp to her sides, and the smile on her face disappeared.

"I… have to go now, Giyuu. And I'm sure you do too."

"Promise me, Shinobu," he implored, "promise me you'll come back..!"

A silence, and then…

"I – promise."

Before she faded into the dark of night, so effortlessly, almost as if she was never there at all.

And perhaps, somewhere deep down, Giyuu already knew.

The story that began ten years ago…

…would end today.

* * *

**Giyuu's POV**

Shinobu Kochou was dead.

The Kasugai Crow had swept into the expanse of the Dimensional Infinity Fortress, and brought with it the heart–breaking announcement.

_Shinobu Kochou is dead._

_Died at the hands of Upper Moon Two._

Perhaps due to sheer emotion, I felt my legs nearly give away under me, my breathing halt, and the powerful grip on my sword flounder. My eyes started to burn; vision turned scarlet.

And maybe, just maybe, I began to cry.

Tanjiro, who was ahead of me, visibly stumbled and tripped over his feet; using his sword as a stopgap, he barely managed to bar his fall. I rushed over to him, and helping to prop him back up, I caught a glimpse of his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his body felt limp and weak and not of the boy who was bursting with vitality just a few moments prior.

Indeed – maybe _I_ was crying, too.

But it was a mourning without tears. A grief without expression. Because I, Giyuu Tomioka, as a man of the world, could not show weakness. Not to the young, anyway. I placed my hands on Tanjiro's shoulders, and spoke to him.

"Do not falter. Stay strong. Now is not the time to cry. We must fight on."

Just as I used to comfort Shinobu in the past, whenever she cried in my arms, head nuzzled to my chest.

Tanjiro looked at me – with those quivering garnet eyes – and dried his tears with his sleeve.

"Yes. You're right. Let's go."

And we soldiered on.

For Shinobu Kochou may have been dead – but Giyuu Tomioka was still alive.

Perhaps though, admittedly, a part of me wouldn't have minded dying in that battle. The battle in question being the one with Upper Moon 3; 'Akaza' was the demon's name, I think. Tanjiro seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him. I do not know for whom – and I care little. What matters now is even _if_ I wouldn't have minded perishing, I'm still here. Alive. Alive, but wounded. Alive to walk this sorry earth another day. To be honest, I have conflicting feelings about it.

Tanjiro dropped dead from exhaustion after the fight. He's just over there, opposite me, snoozing away without a care in the world. Well, despite circumstances, it's good at least _someone_ here is getting rest in. I'm not about to wake him up, either. It's awfully quiet here, with seemingly no imminent threats, and…

There's something I have to do in the meantime, too. Something that I must do _now_, lest I perish in the battle. Something – that cannot wait.

Basking in the warmth of a fire I procured, I slide the crumpled envelope out from under the mantle of my uniform, and only now take notice of how hefty it is. It doesn't flop nor flex when I wave it around in the air, and has the substance and form resembling a brick.

_It seems… that girl still has quite a lot to say._

I grip the remnants of my Nichirin Blade, and slit the envelope open. Taking the letter out, I begin to read.

* * *

**Shinobu's POV**

Dearest Giyuu,

If you're reading this… that means I'm dead, huh?

Death by absorption, likely.

But, before we go any further, there's something I need to tell you.

I'm sure you've noticed I haven't participated in any of the Hashira training sessions. That's because, over the past few months, I've been saturating my body slowly with small doses of Wisteria extract – small enough, that it isn't immediately lethal when I ingest it, but substantial enough that my cells absorb it bit by bit, and that it stays there. Over time, I've accumulated an amount of Wisteria that is equivalent to my worth in body weight; 37 kg. Enough to kill _any _demon that eats or absorbs me. Even an Upper Moon. Even Douma. And even Muzan, if it came to it. Demons are only augmented humans, after all. What is lethal to us will be lethal to them – tenfold. At least, in the way of poisons.

This is all riding on whether Douma's absorbed me or not, though. But rest assured that he most likely has. Females – and especially physically honed females – have a nominally higher nutritional content than males; making them ideal food for demons. And Douma, being Douma, definitely won't miss to indulge if such a prize comes waltzing into his front door.

Knowing you, Giyuu, I'm assuming you've already started reading this during _that _battle. If Douma's already been announced dead, then… woohoo! But if he hasn't, know that it is only a matter of time before he is. I didn't go into that battle expecting to put much of an upfront fight against him, anyway.

But I wonder if it would be a victory at all. I'd definitely see it as one – but what about you, Giyuu? I know how conflicted you feel about all of this. Perhaps you'll come to a conclusion when you reach the end of this letter – I'm sure you've noticed how long it is. You'll have plenty of time to think; and in the meantime, I have plenty of things to say. Who knows – maybe I'll even influence your opinion? Despite how stubborn you are.

…

What else to say at this point?

Enjoy reading? Read with caution?

It's quite surreal, now that I think about it. You're reading this while I'm _dead. _I wonder where I'll have gone? To heaven? To hell? Or to purgatory – the realm straddling the two? So many questions – guess they'll all be answered in due time.

All I know is I don't want to be seeing you anytime soon.

You still have a life left to live, unlike myself. My fate was decided the moment we crossed the borderline out of _that world _– and you know it. Even if your days are numbered, too, you haven't run out of steam quite just yet. But, I'll get back to that topic later. Chronological order and all that – and this letter's already starting to sound heavy, which I don't want it to. I intend it as sort of a homage to myself – which seems strange, I know – but also as a reminder to you, Giyuu.

A reminder – in case you forget, just like I did.

And with that all said and done, get to reading! I put a lot of effort into this letter, so you better! But I guess you're not one to leave a girl hanging, are you? I'll be watching you earnestly from the afterlife, Giyuu.

With Regards,

Shinobu Kochou.

* * *

**A/N**

**I am currently rewriting the first few chapters - starting with this one. I'll move this message up when the next chapter is done, so expect a sharp decline in quality if you decide to move on regardless. I guess it's my latent perfectionism kicking in - I'll probably rewrite this chapter again at some point in the future, but for now, I'm satisfied.**


	2. Small Beginnings

The earliest memories of my life were of being coddled and cosseted by my mother whilst being wafted in the scent of wisteria incense and flowers.

Days went by easily and without event. The only people I knew were my family, servants, and the occasional visitor. It was a time where life was carefree, and beatific, and the passage of time never quite seemed to flow - and up to today, even if I don't retain much memory of it, I look back at my childhood fondly, as a time where the only thing in my heart was youthful innocence, and the worst that could happen was a scolding from my mother.

But – those days turned into months, those months turned into years, and before I knew it, I was just over nine years old, the Meiji Period was coming to an end, and I was to start attending school.

The day I was to begin came without warning. Suddenly, one morning, at an hour when darkness still befell the sky, I was awoken and hurried out of bed by a housemaid – who gave no utterance on the situation – and shoved into a cramped and boring kimono. My beautiful black-unto-purple hair was tied, or rather, _pulled _into a bun, and I was given a rucksack containing books and stationery. I tried to throw a tantrum, but my mother, who had joined in, silenced me with a glare, and pushed me out of the house. I didn't see Kanae anywhere, so I guessed she was still asleep. Then, I was plopped on a rickshaw and ridden in a strange and bewildering direction.

With only the barest details being given to me during the journey, including the fact that Kanae was attending school as well (which was quite the revelation to me, actually, but I took it silently because of how nonchalantly the maid told me. Children don't like to be seen as 'excited', after all. They want to appear cool.), I was dropped off in front of a strange, massive campus, that had an appearance likened to a sprawling courtyard, with odd patches of lawn and flowers dotting the grounds, and a huge, daunting compound of wooden buildings lining the edges. Worst of all, to me, it was extremely crowded - more so than any other place I had been in my life. Playing and chatting children of all sizes, ages and ethnicities populated the grounds, rendering the atmosphere electric, but crushing against nine-year-old me.

It's comical, almost, looking back at how scared I was just being in the public presence - but - that moment, where I stood before the gates of the school, was one of the last few times I could call myself truly innocent. Truly... happy. Happy in the sense that I had a loving, beautiful family behind me, and a rich future in front of me. When I was just like any other child - scared and bewildered on their first day of school, looking for something to hang on to.

Little did I know, however, my life was to change forever that day.

* * *

Kanae was there to greet me, along with two other taller, fairer girls.

"Shino! Bu! Welcome!" she exclaimed, unnervingly jovial, pulling me into an embrace. I felt myself wince. When we were alone, she always said my name like that – by accentuating the last syllable – and that was fine. But, was now the right time? The two other girls seemed equally disgruntled, and, ignoring Kanae, introduced themselves to me. I don't remember their names, never really cared to remember, but something else stuck with me;

"Hey… did you hear about the fire in Matsuyama?" the more outgoing of the duo asked.

Matsuyama being a town near ours – so near, in fact, that nobody really saw it as a separate community from Iyo, where I lived. Its as if she was trying to distance the incident from us, by referring to it in such a way; perhaps as to not worry me. I was only nine at the time, after all.

"…No, I haven't."

"It started from a single house, and nearly spread through the whole neighbourhood. That's what happens when you build all your houses outta' wood, I guess. But _this_ wasn't the result of some accident. They say it was… arson!"

_Huh?_

_Ar… son?_

…

"What does that mean?"

The other girl snickered, but harmlessly.

"The cutie doesn't even know what it means. You shouldn't tell her such things."

"Shaddup! Umm… back to what I was saying; it's when someone sets a building alight on purpose. And, not only that! They say the people who lived in that house - a brother and sister - couldn't be-"

Kanae cut the girl off off, stamping on her foot.

"I agree. Look - you're scaring her."

"Oww… I am? She doesn't seem-"

A punch in the ribs followed.

"_You are_."

_Is she... always this belligerent outside of home?_

To be honest, I didn't really care about what that girl was telling me, at the time. But – it did seem Kanae was going out of her way to stop her from saying any more. Though, again - wasn't interested – and in the end, I didn't think much of it. It would prove unforgettable, eventually, for another reason.

After that, we dabbled in awkward small talk of which I had nothing to contribute, before the painful, agonising ring of a bell shot through the campus.

"There goes the bell. Oh, Shinobu – that means the day has started. You're in class… 1-A, right? Come, I'll show you there."

I shook my head.

"…2-A."

"Oh – yeah! Heh-heh. Follow me."

I noticed Kanae's tone was different from usual. She spoke quickly; uttering some syllables only halfway, using expressions I'd never heard before. I was always able to tell her mood from the look in her eyes – a silent language I had picked up over time; and one of her many quirks. But now, she was as inscrutable as ever.

It was the first time I had seen her so animated, too - she let her head hang back when she laughed, and arms flail wildly in coordination with her words - excluding the time we spent alone, at least. My household was rich, and with that came a relatively strict upbringing that prioritised discipline and manners, over all else – that is, when it was enforced. My mother, who was unofficially in charge of this, tended to let loose when it was just us children, her, and my father; away from the servants' – and in extension – the public's prying eyes.

For this, I am grateful. But I digress.

I was dragged through the zigzagging, crisscrossing, maze-like hallways, that seemed both to go on forever, and constantly result in dead ends. Eventually, I just spaced out, and my legs resorted to moving on their own.

And at some point, still lost in my thoughts, I arrived in front of classroom 2-A.

* * *

Giyuu, if you were being completely honest, which you rarely are…

Do you remember that fateful day under the bridge, where you found me battered and bruised?

You didn't save me, necessarily, from those children, but you didn't just leave me there, either. You came to help, and comfort me. Did I ever say thank you?

I think that was the turning point, back then – us meeting. Not only for that day, but in my life as a whole.

I don't suppose I ever told you the context of that situation, did I?

Perhaps I have, but then I don't remember. And if I didn't, well, here you go.

* * *

The point at which that moment became an inevitability started in the classroom, more specifically in attendance.

There I was, shoved into the classroom by my sister Kanae – who left as quick as she came because apparently, she too was late – with the only knowledge of school being I was supposed to learn something there, and that I should behave well.

"Shinobu… _Kochou_."

By way of observation, I knew that we were supposed to stand up when the teacher said our names. So, I did just that – sprung out of my chair and stood on my own two stout, puffy legs. I was terribly embarrassed, and didn't know where to look. And then -

A gasp. I heard a gasp. A minute, shy gasp, but one nonetheless.

I scanned the room – without moving my head – and caught sight of a girl lending her ear to the person next to her. Catching sight of me, she immediately turned to face the other way. But soon after, the murmuring arose again, this time from behind me.

Why? Why were they whispering? I looked down at myself, scouring for anything that could have been the cause of their gossip.

But they were dismissed quickly. In a flash, the teacher ushered them silent. Still, that did not stop them from looking back at me from time to time during the lesson. Mischievous glares, mostly, but some were malicious; and some, wary.

_Ring-a-ding-ding._

The bell rang, signifying the end of the period. But I was oblivious, at the time, and I just sat there, idle, whilst everyone hurriedly stuffed their papers, pens and whatnot into their bags. Also, nobody didn't bother to tell me that it was now break, but I guess I also didn't bother to ask… Still, bad move on their part.

So, I watched them pass me by, still in my seat, and of course more laughs were shared and more contemptuous looks were bestowed. Before I knew it, I was the only one left in the class.

"_I'll pick you up after class ends."_

That is what Kanae said to me just before I entered the room. That's why I remained complacent, sitting still in my seat, gradually losing focus on the poster on the wall that I sought just for the sake of something to keep my attention on, before my eyelids grew heavy, and-

** _BAM!_ **

In a daze, I fell out of my seat and cowered on the floor. What was that? Something crashed into the hallway wall. So loud was the impact, that it left my ears ringing for about half a minute. Finally, after summoning up the courage, I peeked into the hallway, and saw something that I didn't expect to see.

Dribbling a temari in her hands – a young girl, maybe one or two years older than me, with stark, black hair contrasted with its electric orange ends. She noticed my head butting into the hallway, and called out to me.

"So you finally woke up? Come on, play with us!" she exclaimed, "my name's Susamaru, oh, but I already know yours. Shinobu, right? That's a nice name. Reminds me a bit about vampires – oh, but of course the good types."

Honestly, her remarks and aimless conversation seemed more like a monologue than a dialogue. Anyway – I scanned the hallway wall, checking if any damage was inflicted by the temari ball, and was surprised – and shocked – to see the _washi_ window ridden with a massive hole.

"_Hey!_"

A man appeared at the end of the hallway, clearly angry. He was wearing a hakama and haori, and had a wooden sword in hand. Clearly, he was a Kendo practitioner.

"_Shit_, they've come for me!" Susamaru shouted. It was the first time I ever heard anyone swear. "Well, run!"

The girl dashed off in the opposite direction with blinding speed. The man, intent on pursuit, began sprinting towards us. Whether his target was the girl with the temari or myself, I did not know. But I sure didn't want to stick around to find out…

I tried my best to keep up with Susamaru, but her speed was unreal for a girl of her age and stature. We came upon a corner that turned left – she slowed down her pace and changed direction with ease. Attempting to copy her, I slowed down and changed my momentum, but my velocity was too great. I was flung right into the wall.

Susamaru caught sight of this, and scrambled to my aid. But it was too late. The man already loomed over me, huffing for air, his breaths streaking my face.

"Twat! A little something for your 'package'!"

Susamaru kicked him right in the groin, with such an impact that even the mechanisms of the man's helmet rattled. He bent over – barely managing to graze me - writhing in pain, face contorting with agony. Without a word, I got back up onto my feet and _ran._ I darted through countless corridors, hallways, foyers, caring to keep up my appearance for no one, until I finally burst out of a doorway...

* * *

...to find myself in a garden of sorts. An unprecedentedly beautiful one, at that – large, spacious, populated with the some of the most beautiful flora one could hope to witness in their lifetime. But what stood out most to me, was the stone bridge hanging over a stream that encircled the terrace – and subsequently, the impressionably mischievous group sitting under it.

A band of four, maybe five children, all noticeably older than myself with an exception of one; a frail, young boy that had the air of the ringleader hanging around him. He was sitting on what seemed to be a crate of sorts, in a queer position reminiscent of a western thinker illustrated in a book I read way back when.

Everyone else was jovial and animated. They played amongst each other – running; hiding; splashing in the pond – all the while seemingly unaware of my presence.

But that boy - he took note of me right away. From a distance, he was bereft of life and spirit, motionless under the bridge, but as we got closer, and Susamaru announced her arrival to him, he jolted his head up, wagged his ears, and stood up squarely.

He turned to face me, and as his eyes met mine, I was gripped with a powerful anxiety the likes of which I had never experienced before…

Resentful, stone-cold eyes. Full of extreme hatred and anger, devoid of life and joy. The sparkle in his eyes was gone, and in its place was single-minded fury. When my eyes met his, a wall was thrust between us and the rest of the children. His glare froze me in place, and many a time I tried to avert my gaze, but couldn't. There was something terrifyingly captivating about those eyes. In retrospect, I should have seized my body and ran.

As I am right now, I know those eyes all too well. Those were the eyes of a monster; a _demon_.

The boy approached me, still frozen in place, stopped so close that our breaths collided, and inserted his hand under the mantle of his coat. Only then did I notice his strange attire. A white – what was it? – button-up shirt, black pants, a dark coat with golden laced embroidery, and a strange, pointed knot hanging from his neck. And to top it off, he didn't look like someone from Japan. He had fair skin, not of the Japanese hue, but a light complexion that still maintained some streaks of darkness, if you know what I mean. Sullen blonde hair hung over dull, aquamarine eyes, that were reminiscent of the colour of the ocean during a raging typhoon, and he had sunken cheeks that were not of a boy so junior in age.

I watched his hand carefully, eyeing his articulations, taking note of every slight shift he made. He pulled out a burgundy-coloured wooden box, and opened it, spreading the apparatus over his palms.

"What do you see?" he asked. His voice was smooth, yet bitter. He looked foreign, but his Japanese pronunciation was perfect. I looked down, and contained within the box was a pamphlet, with characters written on it that read:

ロマン・デ・アコスタ

Roman de Acosta

"Roman de Acosta?"

He was the child of one of the cooks serving my family. I did not recognize him right away – the lady seldom brought him to the estate and when she did, he was shy and unapproachable. But the recluse had a diabolical side to his personality.

_'That boy's a damned little terror,' my sister Kanae would often recount, 'o_ _nce, he took one of my brushes and tossed it into the Koi pond.'_

"Do you recognize me, Mistress _Kochou_?"

"I guess. Can I... help you with anything?"

"Yes, _you can!_"

He threw the box to the side and plunged his fist into me. The pain of the impact screamed inside of me, pulverizing the air out of my body and leaving my sputtering. His hand gnawed deep into my abdomen, and I fell to the ground, convulsing and writhing in pain.

My vision went blank, before it gradually recovered into a blurry haze, and only then I realized that tears were pouring out of my eyes.

Everything was numb. I dug my hand into the ground, attempting to get back up, but it shook so much that my arm bent over itself and I fell back onto the floor. The only things I felt then was the cold earth against my face, my burning tears against my cheek, and the unbelievable agony in my abdomen.

_Why?_

_Is there a reason?_

_It hurts so much, you know…_

_God, Roman._

_I don't like what you did._

_In fact, I hate it._

_I hate it, and I hate you._

_Why!?_

_…_

_It hurts so much._

Forcing my head off the ground, I gazed up at Roman - his figure now a cloudy silhouette – and Susamaru, who was standing beside him, motionless, but tense. I could just barely make out the contours of the other children standing behind him; frozen in place, watching me, just as Susamaru was.

She whispered something into his ear, but he pushed her away, approached me, and dug his heel into my head, driving it back into the ground, making me scream in pain.

"Do you know _why_ I am doing this, _Shinobu Kocho_?"

He pressed his heel further.

"Roman, we don't need to go this f-"

"Susamaru...!" he warned, "do you remember what this girl has done? Or must I remind you again?"

"Roman, it was her family, not-"

She stopped intermediately, as if to prevent something coming out that shouldn't have been said.

"Just… leave her be."

Roman sneered, slowly pulling away his leg – but he made sure to drive it right back into me whenever I made any signs of movement. Soon, I learned to just lie still, and while motionless, my senses gradually returned back to me. The bruises and scrapes on my body started burning; the coarseness of the earth felt like needles against my skin. My blood gushed out from the top of my head, saturating the ground in red.

"Why..?" I managed to mutter, my voice hoarse and defiant.

"As if I'll tell you, _bitch_," he spat back, "but you'll know soon enough."

Gradually, my eyelids began to flutter closed.

"Everyone, we're going. I'm done here."

I tried to utter words of protest, but, nothing came out. My voice had failed me. Soon, my entire body grew distant as I began to fall unconscious. Soon, the chirping of the birds faded out, replaced only by the methodic _thumps_ of my heartbeat. Everything was silent. I no longer felt the pain that was etching itself into my body just a moment prior.

_Was I going to die?_

Those words rang through my head.

_Was I?_

"You aren't going to die alone."

A soothing, melodic voice reached out to me and reassured me with its words. Perhaps it was just an illusion created by my mind to comfort me in my last moments, but I latched and held onto those words as if they were the sole thing left in the world for me. I was going to die; I was going to die by bleeding to death, but not all alon-

"Gather your strength, and try to look at me."

The voice sounded itself again.

"You're not alone."

It was definitely real. The seemingly phantasmal voice had reached out to me a third time. I was still going to die, but… let me just see this person's face.

Slowly, and surely, I mustered up the strength to pull up my neck and face my head upwards, before fixating my eyes on the person leaning before me.

A boy, with cool, azure eyes and wild, black hair leaned over me. Meeting my gaze with his own, he smiled.

"My name is Giyuu Tomioka…

…I'll stay with you until you die."


	3. First Union of the Eternal Pair

**TL:DR: Apology for the long wait + author's notes.**

**I ain't gonna say nuthin' - got nuthin' to say. 'Sorry for the long wait'... it that gonna cut it? **

**Well, for one thing, exam season is overrrr! I got damn good marks, too. So I guess all that dutiful studying (****late nights spent cramming) paid off. Luckily, now that it's holiday, I can spend more time writing! It's a hobby of mine, so it doesn't really feel like work. **

**What else can I say? Enjoy this chapter - please favourite, follow, comment, and do everything in-between (****criticism is welcome). **

* * *

**P.S. I know this is a letter from Shinobu to Giyuu, but the former is referring to the latter in a third-person point of view for reasons detailed in the au_thor's notes. _**

* * *

For a while, I just stared.

I gazed upon the boy known as 'Giyuu Tomioka' with a mix of bewilderment, relief, and whatever other emotions could be associated with my current situation.

Maybe I wasn't going to die.

'_I'll stay with you until you die.' _– those words resonated with me, and my spirit was uplifted. His tone and manner of speaking was genuine, and just being in his presence comforted me. In the typical fashion of a foolhardy 9-year-old girl, I thought the boy to be a sort of spirit – a saint sent by some deity to aid me.

But even though my morbid thoughts had all but faded, the deafening pain on my head where Roman had stomped me remained. Blood was still gushing out of the wound, and a sliver trickled into my mouth. The potent, salty taste caused me to spit it out immediately.

I looked at the boy, helpless and expectant. Just meeting his azure gaze helped subdue the pain, but still not enough where it disappeared entirely.

In response, though, he shed his haori, took hold of a corner, and wiped the blood off my cheek. The boy was delicate in his workings; making sure not to rub too hard, and switching corners when it was time to clean the other side.

The gentle kneading soothed my pain, if only a little, and when he was done, he rather unexpectantly draped the haori over me. I was surprised, and felt a peculiar heat arise in my cheeks. The warmth of the cloak enveloped me, and soon even the biting chill of the mud I was soaked in could not be felt anymore.

Extending his hand, he looked down at his own palm, as if gesturing me to grip it. I complied, but not before forcing myself a few ways off the ground in what was a most painful endeavour, in order to gain some leverage. He pulled me up, and I rested my back against a nearby tree – he seated himself on a rock just opposite me.

"My sister always tells me to help girls in need," he started, "or well, _told_. I love her to death, but I… I ran away from home a few days ago…"

He trailed off.

"I'm an outcast in that house. Everyone there is so stuck up with themselves, but my big sister, she's always kind to me and treats me right. Her name's Tsutako. She's really beautiful, and all the guys in town are fond of her."

The boys' face sunk with the utterance of those words, and he choked up slightly. Something was lingering on his tongue – something he wanted to say, but also didn't want to at the same time. In time, however, our mutual silences demanded that he further his story.

"But that's it. She's so lovely, she needs nothing to do with the likes of me."

Instantly, my phantasmal impression of him faded, and I was grounded back into reality. Despite only meeting the boy a few minutes prior, I confided, and understood his sorrow as if I had known him my whole life. His voice – at first strong and proud – descended into a despondent murmur, shaking with every syllable uttered. It conveyed an irrefutable melancholy that could make even the coldest hearts wrench.

I felt obligated to reply, to sooth him in some way, but found that no words could come out of my mouth. Previously, the boy said to me:_ "You're not going to die alone." _– but what exactly did he mean by that?

Those were my exact thoughts at the time, but looking back, I admonish myself for not realising the true meaning behind those words, and how things could have turned out very differently in the end. Foolish, younger me was too naïve to understand.

I repeated those words endlessly and undyingly in my head. By now, crystalline beads of water had accumulated in his eyes. He still loomed over me, but somehow his dominant presence had waned. Those orbs of water turned into streams of tears. Rolling down his cheek and falling silently to the ground, the minute plop giving sound to his vulnerability.

His sobbing tugged at my heart. He tried to stifle his anguished groans and choked breaths, but to no avail. By the time he was wailing, I had finally found my voice.

"Don't cry," I pleaded, throat parched and eyes dry, "I'm sure that she still loves you, no matter what you did."

"You're wrong. She does hate me, I'm sure she does. After what I did, she has all the reason in the world to." His tone was harsh and welled with agony.

"Well, why don't you say sorry? There's always a second chance, as long as you apologise – mother always tells me that."

I was expecting a furious, insidious reply from the boy, but was met only with silence.

I looked up at him and saw that his tears had ceased. The wistful, perfumed autumn breeze swayed the grass and lifted his hair, revealing hollow, dead eyes. The aquamarine sparkle in them had disappeared. His jet-black hair now seemed ethereal, and functioned as a dark cloak that shrouded the boy in a despondent aura.

The last tear dripped from his chin, splashing just a few ways in front of me. He was dead still, as if in a state of trance, and gave off the impression of a boy not of the living.

He was motionless for so long that I began to wonder if he wasn't just a statue, or a product of my imagination. Perhaps I was just imagining things. Perhaps I was going to die. Perhaps he wasn't real. And perhaps, he was-

"She's dead – killed by a demon. I was there, in her room. She was rehearsing for some event the next day - prepping her appearance, the like - and I was there, playing and chatting. And then, _it _was there.

The train of wild thoughts in my head was abruptly halted; cut in half by his sudden reply. The boy had stopped intermediately, but the quivers in his voice remained.

"I vaguely remember it. My sister screamed, and I screamed too, in response. She jumped in front of me, hugging me tightly.

'Giyuu,' she whispered to me, keeping her eyes on the creature, 'take this knife. The section of the wall behind us is thin and made of paper. Cut through it, and run..!'

'What about you?' I replied, palming the blade warily.

'You go first. I'm first going to distract him – lead him to the cellar. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll meet up with you behind the building of the Jesuit Mission.'

My sister was a bad liar. The one entrance, and exit, of the room had been blocked by the demon.

Beads of sweat slid down my forehead. My raging thoughts pounded in my head. The demon slowly made its way toward us, and my sister gradually relinquished her grip.

'Go!' she urged, not bothering to hush herself, but I felt no incentive to move. The demon's presence had overpowered me.

'_There's no way she'll be able to escape,' _I thought; _'I can beat it,' _I thought.

But before I could even poise myself, in an unperceivable instant, it was there, right behind us.

I twisted my neck - so strenuously and so cautiously that I thought I could hear my bones creak - but was suspended immediately the moment his gaze met mine.

Vivid, rainbow-hued eyes stared back into mine, boring a hole straight through me. His glare, despite it being unwavering and unmoving, burned me where it sank.

In the background, ever so faintly, I could hear my sister pleading my name, begging me to run. Her voice, desperate and afraid, failed to reach me – those eyes had encapsulated me; trapped me in a void - where only the destitute cries of my sister and the shimmering light of those rainbow-coloured eyes reached me. They contained an indescribable emptiness, tinted by only the slightest hint of malice…

The sound of a loud, visceral crack broke my trance. It was sharp, and came without warning from behind me – from the direction of my sister.

Suddenly, her voice ceased, and the electric hostility in the air faded. It was replaced by a cold tension that swallowed and deafened my senses, leaving only my raging thoughts and dormant spirit to warm me.

My heart pounded in my ears. Blood rushed through my body, causing me to stiffen as if it was clotting. Pulling my eyes away from the demon's rainbow-tinted own took a massive amount of will - and looking back, I wish I never did. Slowly, I turned my head around.

I was met with the sight of my sister's beautiful face, poised in my direction but not quite looking at me. Yes, it calmed me slightly just to examine her features, but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew something was amiss.

My sister had shielded me, with herself poised towards the front, back facing and arms slung around me. Yet, it seemed unnatural that I could view her face if she was in such a position, as I was doing right now.

At this point, my heart had failed to catch up with my head. This was my sister; my beautiful, everlasting older sister. The sister who'd always and would always be kind to me, who loved me without condition; the sister who had a planned that night with a man not much different from the last. But when my eyes locked with hers, I knew.

They were dry, lifeless, and had a complexion no longer of this world. The energy that I had came to know and love was no longer there. Her pupils were all but gone, in its place a patch of cold, white flesh. Biting my lip and gulping, my gaze continued downwards.

Her mouth hung open, a dribble of saliva suspended from the corner of her lips, whom were pursed into a shape that mimicked an attempt to speak. My eyes trailed down her features, and soon I caught sight of her neck.

It… it didn't look twisted in any way, but it was in an unnatural and somewhat forced position. The skin at the base of her neck was stretched at the seams, in a circular direction, and was somewhat akin in appearance to the weaves of a straw basket.

I was shaken, but still unaware. I'm sure you already know what I had then failed to realise.

My eyes continued downwards, and I was confused for a moment when met with the sight of her back. My gaze turned back up to her head, then down to her back again. I repeated the cycle endlessly, with each iteration strengthening my realisation.

My dear, lovely, beautiful, older sister - was dead."

He paused for a second.

"After that, I ran. I threw off my sister's body which had toppled onto me, and ran. Her heavy, inanimate limbs were still warm with the slightest tint of life, but I knew she was dead.

I didn't look back; didn't gaze at her one last time.

I just ran - leaving behind only grief, anger, my sister's body, and the demon with the rainbow-coloured eyes."

* * *

And once again, I found myself unable to speak, only able to stare in silence at the boy known as 'Giyuu Tomioka'.

"What's your name?"

"Shinobu."

And he fell silent.

Some time passed, but only our looks were exchanged. Giyuu's cold, hollow gaze met my saddened, but auspicious own.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could even utter the first word, he wiped away the tears draping his cheek and forced his lips into a strained smile.

"I know what you're about to say, Shinobu," he started, "but don't worry. I'm fine – I just need your help."

"Huh?" I asked rhetorically, dumbstruck.

"Hey, Shinobu," he continued, "pinch me."

"...Why?"

"You know. To wake me up from this dream."

I couldn't reply, and even if I was able I wouldn't.

"I've already tried it on myself, but it hasn't worked. Maybe it'll succeed if _you_ pinch me," he said, tone gradually turning upbeat and hopeful, "It's all in my head, right? Even you - you're just a figment of my imagination."

Despite his behest, I could not bring myself to move. I began to feel a dull ache arise in my heart, and a lump forming in my throat.

"Hey, Shinobu; hurry up already. It hasn't been a good dream – I want to wake up now; wake up and see my sister." His voice was gradually becoming choked again – but still I could not bring myself to comply with his request.

"Hey Shinobu, hurry up! I'm sick of this dream! I wanna wake up! I wanna see my sister! I miss her - I miss her so badly! Just seeing her face again is fine! So please, Shinobu! Please…"

At what point had he stopped asking for me to pinch him, and instead started to cry out to the whole world - not for help, but for consolation? At what point had he arrived at the painful realisation that his beloved sister, was in fact dead? Perhaps he had held that aching sentiment all along, hidden in the depths of his conscience, or perhaps it was something that came to only when I refused to grant his futile request.

At what point indeed.

* * *

**Further notes:**

1.) Shinobu is referring to Giyuu from a third-person perspective because she hasn't got to know him all that well yet. Call it poor emotional scheming, but there's a plausible reason for this that will be detailed in later chapters.

2.) I know Giyuu is quite well spoken for a child, but that comes as a product of the secluded lifestyle he'd led for the better part of his life.

3.) The conversation between Giyuu and Shinobu, where the latter tells the former about apologising, is my first attempt at writing a heated dialouge between a person with a child-like way of speaking and someone with a more mature manner, but who is also in a state of high emotion. Forgive me if it is not up to par.


	4. I, Demon

But it doesn't matter now – and it never will. Not to me, nor to him.

Giyuu is bent over, hands curled into fists, digging into the ground, the crunches of dirt rendered barely audible under his wails.

His sobs echoed indefinitely throughout the garden, broken up only by the occasional sputter or utterance of his sister's name. It was akin to a sort of elegy; a plead to the powers above to aid him in his time of need. But he knew better than anyone that it was all in vain.

Clouds began to form in the sky – and along with it, the atmosphere grew depressive. The first raindrops drizzled onto the leaves above me, each landing with a soft pitter or patter. It served as a silent warning for us to scurry indoors, but we nevertheless remained unmoving.

Looking back at that scene, I only now realise how strange the circumstances were. At the beginning of the day, I was a confused and bewildered child, thrust into a situation with no precedence or knowledge beforehand. Throughout the periods, I was ostracised and frowned upon by my classmates, right up to the end of the school-day – before the appearance of a girl who tempted me with the promise of camaraderie: Susamaru.

After being berated by a teacher, we ran through the corridors of the school, and she even saved me from being apprehended by the Kendo practitioner. And then, we emerged into the garden.

But in the end, when I had entered the presence of the blue-eyed boy – Roman de Acosta – she showed her true colours and turned on me.

Looking back at everything that happened, even more questions entered my head.

What was this place?

Why did Roman attack me?

Why did none of the teachers give chase?

In time, all my questions would eventually be answered. But sometimes, I wish they never were.

* * *

"Look at me, Giyuu."

The voice came from behind me; authoritative yet feminine – and belonged to someone whom I knew very well.

Kanae stepped out from behind the tree. She donned a sorrowful, conflicted expression – one that held the slightest bit of impertinence – and sighed before pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Haltingly, and with great toilfulness, Giyuu turned his head up from the floor and placed his eyes on Kanae. His overbearingly expectant gaze earned a grunt from Kanae, who noticeably struggled as to not turn away out of instinct.

She approached the boy, and when she passed me by, I caught a glimpse of her face. I mentioned before how I could always gain insight of her emotions just from the look in her eyes – I couldn't even scratch the surface now, however. Kanae was utterly inscrutable - just as she was when she greeted me at the start of the day.

Bending down on her knee, my sister placed a hand on Giyuu's shoulder.

"I… heard everything – no, not everything – but just enough; enough to know what you're going through."

She paused, considering her next words.

"Why don't you come with us? To our home, I mean. You don't have a place to go, right? If so, just come."

My head perked up. Even when faced with only her back, I could feel a smile spread over Kanae's face.

Resting her remaining hand on Giyuu's shoulder, she drew herself in.

"You said your name was Giyuu, wasn't it?" she said, "I am Kanae Kochou – Shinobu's older sister. It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

We didn't have any money, so we were forced to return home on foot.

The walk was long and taxing – especially for me, due to my injuries – and Giyuu's everlasting silence did nothing to relieve the atmosphere, either. On top of that, my sister had to effectively drag him through the streets – earning us a few conspicuous looks from the local townspeople. Luckily, the shower before was just that - only a shower. The rain had ceased, which was a relief, but the puddles and mud remained, resulting in the rudimentary gravel roads of our town being made exceptionally harder to traverse.

Along the way, I explained my situation to Kanae. The moment I uttered the name _Roman de Acosta,_ Kanae's eyes widened in what seemed like shock, if only for an instant. For a moment afterwards, she looked as if she wanted to tell me something of grave importance – despite this, however, she remained silent, and instead only nodded her head feebly. What ensued was awkward silence.

At the final leg of our journey, when we had exited the city and emerged onto an open, level field from which we could see our estate in the distance, I worked up the courage to ask Giyuu to continue his story. It seemed wrong for me to ask, but the demand for the questions at the forefront of my conscious was stronger than my meek moral compass.

Kanae hissed at me, and made a gesture for me to drop the conversation – but fell silent when Giyuu stopped dead in his tracks.

"It's fine, Kanae," he muttered. My sister didn't look the least bit convinced, but she made no remark.

"I was at the part when-"

…

"-my sister died, wasn't I?"

I nodded.

"After that, I just ran and ran. I'm sorry; I don't remember much - everything was such a blur. I don't know how far I ran, or what direction I ran in, but at some point, my legs just gave away. I didn't even bother to get up. I was just tired – tired of everything. In a way, I still am. My eyes fluttered closed, and soon I was fast asleep.

I awoke to find myself in a cabin of sorts. It was built in an unfamiliar style – bare wooden beams erected were as frameworks, with patches of dry, white plaster in-between. Dirty windows dotted the whitewashed walls erratically.

The room had a cold air that I could only feel on my face – and only then did I notice that I was enveloped in a peculiar type of bedding. It wasn't a futon, specifically; below me was a firm hump of fabric, that supported me perfectly yet caved in when I applied pressure. Even stranger, was that a frame of wood elevated this massive cushion off the ground. Covering me was a blanket – but it was coarse and not warm at all. I was still fully dressed, and only my clothes kept the chill at bay.

I attempted to sit up fully, but was stopped intermediately when the voice of a man reached out to me.

'You're awake now.' – he said something along those lines. I swivelled my head around, slightly distraught and still half-asleep, and scoured the room – which I noticed was quite bare - for the source.

My eyes fell on a mysterious cloaked man, seated in a chair in a far corner of the room. He was holding a book in one hand, and playing with a lock of his hair with the other. When he noticed me staring at him, he promptly stood up, laid the book on a nearby table, and walked over – soon looming over me.

'You've been asleep for a whole day,' he said with a kind and soothing voice. I didn't know what to reply, and instead took the opportunity to examine his face.

He had thin, curly, dark hair, that hung freely all around, but skin so dull and pale that almost betrayed it. In the midst of these polarising features, there lay thin, colourless lips; a sharp, pointed nose; but most strikingly of all, brilliant red eyes. Indeed, his tapered appearance somewhat forsook his kind voice and demeanour, but those eyes – those beautiful, shimmering, vermillion eyes – were unlike anything I had ever seen before.

But the sight of them dug up a nightmarish memory.

Immediately, images and recollections of my encounter with the rainbow-eyed demon flashed before my eyes. The cries, pleads, and voices of the scene rang over and over again in my ears, overpowering all other sensations and rendering my thoughts in turmoil. I tried my best to suppress it, but my hands still clasped around my head.

I must have muttered something – something barely coherent, but coherent enough, because when I had calmed down, I saw the man had donned an expression of understanding.

'My name is… Nazum,' he said, lips forming into a smile, "what would yours be?"

'...Giyuu Tomioka.'

'Ahh... that's a wonderful name. I think it suits you well.'

'...'

Nazum, huh?

Looking back, it really was a strange name, especially considering the man did not look all that out of place. In fact, everything about him was polarising. An Asian man in a not-so-Asian room, possessing a not-so-Asian name; a soothing voice that contrasted with sharp and angular features. And yet, everything seemed so befitting and natural, in its own sort of subtle, inexplicable way.

'Hmm..? What exactly do I say?" he continued, "I found you unconscious in the forest, and decided to bring you here.'

'This place is a Jesuit Mission. It is one of many outposts around the world that was set up by people from Europe – whom we call missionaries – that are trying to spread their religion; Christianity. They also accommodate locals that are sick or in need on the premises – that is where you are right now.'

Ah yes, now I remember – the Jesuit Mission. My sister and I would always meet up behind the buildings, to do whatever and whatnot. I had never actually been inside, so no wonder I didn't recognise the place. The strange bedding I was in, and the peculiar construction of the room all made sense now.

Things were silent for a bit. I think Nazum sensed that I was in no talking mood - so he got up and traversed his way to a nearby counter. I heard clay clink and water boil, and soon he returned, tray of tea in hand. Setting it down, he palmed the cup that had a cloth wrung around it - presumably for insulation - and handed it to me. The pleasant aroma of the tea warmed my heart, if only a little.

'...Would you like to tell me your story?'

'Huh?'

'You were running from something, weren't you? I could deduce that much from how you lay passed out in the forest, and from the trail of crunched leaves in your wake.'

'...Yes.'

...

'You don't have to tell me if you don't want to...'

'No, no - it's fine.'

And so, with a heavy heart, I told Nazum my story.

Of course, at the end of it, he looked very shocked. He was being genuine, sure, but somewhere I felt something was amiss. I didn't contemplate the subject further, though. He presented me his condolences, and the matter was dropped in favour of more lighthearted, albeit not mutually perpetuated, conversation.

We talked for a while, Nazum and I. It helped a great deal to take my mind off things - we dabbled in all sorts of topics; from books to baking, girls and gastronomy, just to name a few. Gradually, I was put at ease.

By the time we finished, it was already nightfall. A wave of despondency took over me - along with the realisation I had nowhere to go. Nazum knew this, too, but I was told that he could not accommodate me on the premises any longer, for it was against the 'church policy' - he said.

'I'm sorry I can't let you stay here,' Nazum said, 'but tell you what. Head to that strange-looking building over there - the one standing alone.'

He arched his body over the bed, hand falling on some sort of handle attached to the wall, and pulled. The panel creaked open, and revealed a hollow area from which a birds-eye view of the city was provided.

I followed the direction of his outstretched finger, and my eyes fell on a tall, desolate complex that stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of the low-lying townhouses.

'...What is that place?'

'A school established by Missionaries. Go there and ask for Mr. Açores - he is the principal. His Japanese name is Shuyōna-Dono. Tell him your situation, and I'm sure he'll give you a place to stay. He may seem stern at first, but he is a kind man. You needn't worry.'

I proceeded to get out of bed and follow Nazum to the entrance. Opening it, a spacious and uninterrupted field was revealed, with a cobblestone road that devolved into gravel wading through it. A full moon loomed tranquilly in the sky, bathing the pasture in a shimmering white light.

'I'm… sorry for your loss, Giyuu. I hope life proves more fortunate for you from now on.' And with that, he swept me up into an embrace. It was so warm, so comforting… I felt as if I could just stay like that forever – and I wanted to. But that was impossible.

I bid farewell to him, and was set on my way.

* * *

Hobbling down the road, I saw a person in the distance - traversing the same path, but contrary to myself, was heading in the direction from whence I came.

A few steps further, and the silhouette began to materialise. It was a man - a tall, relatively well-built man from the looks of it. He donned a straw hat which covered his hair and face, and wore the traditional male attire of which the only notable inclusion was a solid-red haori.

...It was quite beautiful, and I found my eyes to be drawn to it.

...

We got closer.

Our crossing of paths was imminent.

The sound of my sandals crunching in the dirt dimmed - why did I feel so tense?

'Hey, you.'

It was a masculine voice, undoubtedly the traveler's. I didn't look at him, didn't pause.

'You're that boy.'

A vague statement, but one uttered so irrefutably I could not ignore it. I stopped walking.

'...What do you mean?'

'The boy from the Tomioka household...'

My heart skipped a beat-

'...the boy who ran.'

-and sunk.

I looked up, and I saw them.

Those rainbow-eyed eyes staring down at me, with a gaze so fixated and intense it felt as if it made my very blood freeze.

However, something was different.

Something that wasn't there before – a pair of kanji.

A pair of kanji was now visible in his pupils.

They read out... _Upper Moon Two. _

But despite that - regardless of that - I knew it was him. And because of that, I suddenly went rabid with fury, my emotions thrown into a state of turmoil.

_'It's him.' _I thought.

_'It's him, it's him, it's him..!'_

_'The son of a bitch who killed Tsutako..!'_

'Oh, well. It doesn't matter. I'm full now, anyway.'

_'Full? What the fuck do you mean? And that it 'doesn't matter?' Tsutako's death 'doesn't matter?''_

'You..!'

_'I'll kill you - I'll kill you right here, right-' _

'Tell me, boy. What was that girl to you?'

_You... you have the nerve to ask that fucking question? You killed her. You killed my sister. She didn't do anything - anything at all, and yet..._

_You took her life away. _

'Why..? Why did you kill her?'

'Hm? I don't understand the question.'

'Don't... don't give me that!'

I lunged towards him, hands curled into fists. But in the next instant, he was gone.

'Hey, boy, calm down. It was just a joke.'

I swung around to find him standing behind me, nonchalant. I attempted to hit him again, but was stopped intermediately.

He had instantly raised his hand to my neck, the tips of his nails morphed into razor-sharp points. It pricked me, and a small amount of blood was drawn.

'You-'

'I didn't kill her, boy, I _ate _her. You ought to know the difference. What you saw back there was just me 'preparing' the meal, if you will. You humans slaughter your animals before you eat them, right? This is the same thing.'

He pressed his nails deeper, and a menacing look spread over his face.

'I _love _your spirit, boy. But do not forget this; I am a god, the highest of beings. You meagre humans are meant to _serve me. _I asked what your relationship with that girl was, but you failed to reply. Know this, her sole purpose in life, from the moment she was born, was to be _my meal. _She never lived for herself. Tell me, boy... **do you understand?**'

Tears began to form in my eyes, and I shuddered with fear. The resolve I displayed earlier had all but waned.

**'**But she had _one _saving grace. This haori - it's very beautiful. I took it off her dead, lifeless body, and although it's a pity some blood got on it, the red colour does well to hide it.'

And then it struck me - why my eyes had been so drawn to it. That blood-red haori was my sister's very favourite. Although I never knew where it came from, my sister considered it a vital part of her sentimentality and thus, I also went to great lengths to take care of it.

Such a beautiful article of clothing, fitting of an equally beautiful girl. But now, it had fallen into the hands of the infidel.

'That look in your eyes, boy. It's _truly marvellous. _Ahhh… you seem as if you want to murder me – to rip my intestines out of my stomach and wring them around my neck. _I love it – you're making me all tingly and hard.' _

His tongue trailed his lips, slow and seductive, the saliva leaving a brilliant gloss on them. He moaned, the sound slight and low, before letting out a heavy, erotic gasp and trembling afterwards, seemingly exasperated.

'But not now, _Douma._ You _must _contain yourself. He is not mature yet. Patience is bitter, but it's fruit is sweet,' he mutters, delirious. 'You're making my heart ache, **Giyuu. **You're crying - feigning helplessness - but that look in your eyes betrays you. _'But what of it?', _you may ask with silent conviction - and in response to that, I present you an offer.'

He moved his fingers upwards, caressing my chin before grabbing me from under my jaw.

'I asked earlier what that girl was to you, but I already know everything. I've been ~_watching_, you know…' he murmurs, looking me dead straight in the eye, 'I'm going to give you back your sister's haori, you hear, but wait! There's a catch…'

He paused, pursing his lips into a malicious grin.

'…**You'll have to fight me!'**


	5. Hand in Hand

'...Not now, of course, but when you're older. When you've _matured_.'

He tightened his grasp.

'I see potential in you, boy. You're strong, spunky, and have quite the bit of muscle, even at this young age... believe me, I'm using quite a bit of effort just to hold you up,' Douma continued, using his other arm to feel around my body, 'hmm, yes... but I digress. Now, back to the topic at hand.'

He finally relinquished his grip, dropping me back onto the ground. Douma didn't let his guard down for a second, though – his nails remained poised the whole way through. He pins them to my neck again, drawing even more blood, the first wound not even have clotted yet. It stung, and the infusion with my nervous sweat only worsened the pain.

'I am a god, but only in the mortal sense. In reality, I am a messenger between the deities that reign above, and the humans that dwell on this sorry land. So, you could say that in essence, I am not a god at all. Some people say that I am a fraud - a fraudulent man; that I am an enigma - an enigmatic man - or something like that. You humans like to play with words you have no understanding of. Haha! But sometimes, I find it amusing!'

_Wait - I've just noticed something._

_Why is he referring to humans as if they were separate from himself?_

_Isn't he human?_

_He definitely looks and acts like a human..._

_And he himself said that he wasn't a god. _

_No, I'm sure it's just a product of his ego._

_A result of his hubris._

_Something that came to because of arrogance._

_Because he looks down on others._

_'__I am a god,__ the highest of beings.' _

_But why - did it feel like he was telling the truth; that he wasn't human, but rather, inhuman?_

'Tell me, boy, why do you act as if this is all a big shock for you? Don't you know anything about-'

He suddenly fell silent, as if a stark realization had struck him.

'Ohh… I see. So, Tsutako never told you about demons, and about_ me?'_

_He knew my sister? And from_ _his tone, quite well at that. _

_But it couldn't be._

_I'd never seen him before. _

_Everyone my sister knew, I knew._

_It wasn't a matter of over-attachment, more a matter of a small social circle. Also, she didn't have a reason to keep anything from me. _

_Unless…_

_Unless - it was something sinister. _

_And a demon... what was a demon?_

_I'd never heard of them before._

_And I'm sure Tsutako hadn't, too. _

'To be perfectly honest, my memory of your sister is quite fuzzy right now, which is a shame, since we do have quite the history that I would _love _to tell you. I don't know why she didn't say anything out of her own volition, though, but what's done – or rather what's not done– is in the past. Since that's the case, I'll tell you about demons, and a little bit about myself instead. It'd be in your best interest to listen.

'To put it shortly, demons are a race of man-eating-human-lookalikes. They've been around for hundreds of years, since, I think, the Heian period, and the vast majority of them still reside in their land of origin: Japan. They live long lives – perhaps even infinite - and have fantastic regeneration abilities, but also cannot stand sunlight…

'...I am a half-demon, but out of my demon and human conscientious entities, the demon side is stronger. My father was the demon, my mother; the human. People might tell you otherwise, but it's actually possible for demons and humans to conceive a child. It's just that it's a taboo - for those who know, of course.'

_Taboo? Did he say taboo? Indirectly, he had told me that his own birth was a taboo, and not even batting an eye in the process. _

He immediately shifted his tone.

'I want to fight you, boy, because fighting gives me pleasure. It may very well be the only thing that _does_ – but I don't really know. I'll fight you when I deem fit, where I deem fit, and how I deem fit. You'll be my sparring toy for the rest of your limited, mortal life, so you better make the most of it! Train hard, _Giyuu Tomioka,_ otherwise you'll regret it. Oh, and by-'

He stopped intermediately, before his calculated tone devolved into a malevolent cackle.

'Oh, and by the way,' he said, struggling to hold down his voice, 'there's news that a prominent woman named Hiromi has come to Matsuyama. You must have some relation with her, right? For her surname is none other than _Tomioka.' _

_Wh-what?!_

_No, no, no._

_No..!_

_It's her!_

_Mother..!_

'Your mother, correct? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter much to you. If I remember correctly, you didn't hold her in very high esteem – or was it the other way around? She wasn't a particularly _good _mother, or to put it in milder terms, she didn't fit the general perception of what a mother should be like. Again, if my memory is serving me right, I didn't like her very much as well – and that was a mutual feeling.'

_If she's here, that means… _

_He is too. _

_That man. _

_The man who broke up my family. _

_The green-eyed man from Hokkaido. _

'Hey, you alright? You've gone pale as chalk.'

_I have to get back. _

_I have to explain what happened._

_To mother._

_Otherwise…_

_Otherwise… who knows what she'll do. _

Douma had completely broken down by now. He's arched over, hands clutched on his stomach, laughing to high hell. In one seamless, striking move, he pulled off the haori and threw it over me.

_'Take it, and go.' _\- he seemed to whisper.

I spare no moment to think. In the next moment, I'm turned on my heels, fleeing.

Once again, I found myself running without any purpose or direction, spurred only by instinct.

The pure, unadulterated instinct of fear.

Once again, I found myself running from the demon with rainbow-coloured eyes.

So beautiful, yet so damn sickening.

And once again, I found myself running from the monster who killed my sister.

As well as my own certain death.

* * *

I ran into the forest, desperate to hide. The innumerable brambles and stones tripped me many times, and a few stray branches cut me as I passed - but I didn't stop.

_Matsuyama. I have to get back to Matsuyama. _

_To my home, where sister is!_

Douma was left in the dust, but I'm sure he could've caught up to me if he wanted to. He was still laughing - that same maddening, malicious cackle - and the sound didn't dim no matter how far I ran.

It got to me. It drove me to continue running.

But then, it suddenly ceased - and I'm stopped dead in my tracks. In its place, a blood-chilling roar that shook the earth to its very core emerged:

**'Fare thee well, Giyuu Tomioka! I hope to be seeing you again soon!'**

* * *

I could infer that my mother, a famous and pompous lady, was not in town - for whenever she was in Matsuyama, the visit would be accompanied by festivities and a moderate commotion.

Small town people make big ruckuses out of small things.

Although, in honesty, I was relieved somewhat, the fact of the matter did not help clear the despondency clouding my heart.

…

For a while, I just stood in front of the house, staring at it, as if I was a thief sizing up his next target. My body lurched forward, poised to move, but my legs stayed frozen in place.

I was afraid. Afraid of what I would find in there - my head told me to go, but my heart told me to stay.

…

I trudged my way through the dark, decrepit hallways, hugging the haori for warmth, feeling the walls with my hand, for it was so pitch black I could not see anything, and immediately halting when I was the slightest unnerved, be it by sound or by a plain gut feeling.

It's as if somewhere, deep down, I already knew.

...

_It was a horrifying sight. _

_A mangled pile of blood, flesh, and gore. _

_Red pools and splatters covered the walls and floor - a humid, salty stench emanating from them. _

_Cosmetics and garments which used to be displayed so beautifully and so proudly, now littered the ground - limp and dirty, just like trash. _

_And yet, I could not bring myself to call it grotesque. _

_For it was the sight of the person whom I loved the most. _

...

In the next moment, I'm bent over, clutching at my sleeves, retching with my body turned away from the sight. Even when the gagging stops, my entire being remains in agony.

My heart wells with pain.

My head is achingly dizzy.

And yet, I don't cry.

Because I've already decided what to do next.

...

_A stake of wood._

_The sound of flint striking against metal._

_The molten-like glow helps me find my way through the house. Soon, I'm outside._

_Torch meets plank, and the fire spreads. Very quickly, it develops into a blaze._

...

A crowd gathers by the house - but I'm already far away.

My heart skipped a beat when the splint made contact with the wood - when the first flames started to appear. And yet, I could not bring myself to stop it.

For a part of me had wanted it for so long.

I trudged along the beaten path, facing away from the scene. The red haori is draped around my neck, and in my hand, a lacquered wooden comb shimmers in the moonlight.

A woman approached me. I bumped shoulders with her, head hung down, and she stopped.

'That house. It was mine. It belonged to me – yet… how could this happen? That house was mine. Mine. So why, why is it burning..? **My own home! **I must find her. Must find Tsutako. My dear baby girl. Tsutako!'

_It was my mother's voice._

…_So she was here after all?_

_But right now, I'm in a bad mood. _

_I'm just not feeling it._

'**Boy!' **she roars, spinning around. In the next instant, her hand slams into my cheek, and I'm thrown to the ground. While I'm falling, I catch glimpse of a man spectating in the distance. But I have no time to think -immediately, a foot is thrust into my stomach, the pronged wooden clogs burrowing deep.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

I'm left groveling in the dirt, stomach numb with agony, blood seeping in my mouth.

_I'm not in the mood for this. But I can't help it. _

'You! Why?! Why is that house – **my **house, that **I **had built – on fire?! Isn't it your job to keep watch?! I shelter you, feed you, give you clothes, and this is how you repay me?! And Tsutako?! Where's Tsutako?! Oh-no-no-no... no! Tsu…'

Her words faded from my hearing. In my blurred vision, I saw her gesture the man to follow, before making off towards the house.

Indeed, my hunch was correct. It was the green-eyed man from Hokkaido.

Only after quite some time passed, and the blaze calmed somewhat, did I feel the urge to get up.

Just to get up. Not to go anywhere in particular.

Or so I thought.

My feet carried me in an unfamiliar direction, moving on their own, spurred by some unconscious direction. Soon, I came face-to-face with a building that only half a week age, I would have never taken note of.

The school owned by Mr. Açores.

* * *

Indeed, he was a stern man. What I wasn't sure about was whether he was a kind man.

Mr. Açores was an obese, middle-aged geriatric, of fair complexion and balding hair, in possession of large, bright blue eyes.

He sits plump in his chair, and fidgets with his thumbs whenever he is talking. He has a habit of slamming his desk to emphasise something. The smell of smoke lingers in the room, and he lights a new cigar every five minutes, without finishing the last. He keeps the windows shut, allowing no fresh air to circulate between the inside and outside.

Truly a character.

'You wish to stay here?'

'Yes... sir.'

'Why?'

'My family was slaughtered by a demon.'

_Not wholly a lie, but one nonetheless - explaining the actual circumstances would only do to complicate things. _

'Hmm-hmm. A demon. And why would you come to me of all people?'

'A man named Nazum led me to this place.'

'...Nazum, huh? Hmm...'

He was stuck in thought for a while. _Perhaps he is still skeptical_ \- I thought. So, I interrupted him...

'I'm telling the truth, I sw-'

'Describe this demon to me.'

...only to be promptly shut down.

'He was... very tall - I only reached up to about his chest; and-'

'Be more specific!'

'Y-yes! He had... rainbow-coloured eyes, very pale skin, and blonde hair with some streaks of black and platinum...'

He immediately stood up - with such zeal that I never thought the man could, and would have been able

to display - and grabbed me by my collar.

'Did he tell you his name?' His tone was menacing and unnerving.

'Y-yes! It was... Douma.'

The man kept his eyes on me for a while, before slinking back into his chair. He massaged his head, seemingly out of stress, proceeding to light another cigar and taking a puff before resting it on a nearby ashtray.

'Tell me the truth.'

'Huh?'

'Douma doesn't slaughter whole families indiscriminately. He hand-picks his meals, and stalks them for many years, before _striking._

'...So, who was it?'

I gulped.

'My older sister...'

'And the rest of your family?'

'Somewhere. I don't know where, but somewhere.'

...

'Tell me, do you know about the Eternal Paradise cult?'

'…A bit.'

I'd heard about it once from Tsutako. Its leader claims to be able to solve any issues a devotee may have,

be it worldly or spiritual...

'Douma is the leader, and sole religious figure in that cult,' he continued, 'I'm assuming you know that he asserts to being able to magically rectify any problems people may present him with - but know this; it is all a lie.'

He leans in, expression hard and serious like stone.

'You absolutely must not tell anyone else what I'm going to say to you,' he said, 'for that... will mean your

death.'

_My death? But how? _

'Douma is a fraud, but I'm sure you already know that. The issue is that most people don't. He has followers everywhere on this here island of Shikoku, and further, of all types of people. But there's a special group that he savors above all others: young women.

'And by savor, I mean that he _eats_ them.

'His own worshippers.

'Boy, remember this - I am one of the _few_ people in the world who knows the truth of the demon that calls himself Douma, and christens himself a god.

'But of course, he doesn't like that.

'He hates it - because it is the one thing that poses a threat to his otherwise untouchable presence.

'And that's why those who know are being hunted down.

'His followers are deadly loyal, too. They will turn you in instantly if you ever blaspheme _him_. Most of them don't know that their 'god' even eats his own followers, let alone that he is a demon, but they don't _need _to know. Just _wham, _they tell him, and the next moment, he's at your doorstep...

'These are _precisely _the reasons you must never relay this information to anyone.

'Only those whom you trust most.

'Even then, you must tread with discretion.

'And as for how he procures his meals, there are two ways:

'When the devotees are on their way home, he strikes, bringing them back to his temple, or, they willingly offer themselves up to him. The latter is far more common, but also reported less.'

_Then that means… _

The look on my face must have said it all, because he replied in eerie accordance with my thoughts.

'That means your older sister was...'

…_Tsutako was…_

'…indeed an adherent...'

I was still somewhat in disbelief.

_Tsutako? A believer? In something so superficial and obviously a scheme? _

_I mean... I had my own opinion set up about the matter the moment I learned about the cult - and had always thought it was quite similar to my sister's, even though I never asked her directly, because we tended to share the same views and beliefs._

'...and that's why she was targeted.'

He sighed, before plopping back into his seat. To my surprise, he got back up and opened one of the shutters. The cool, outside air relinquished the room of its smoky odour, and Mr. Açores turned around to face me.

'Boy, tell me your name,' he asked.

Only then did the realisation strike me that I had failed to tell him such a rudimentary, yet important thing.

'Giyuu Tomioka,' I replied.

For a moment, the man's eyes widened.

'Tomi…oka?' he muttered, but I didn't reply. He looked as if… he had just experienced a monumentous realisation. His eyes widened, and his jaw was gaping. But my thoughts were soon waved silent.

'No, it's nothing. You'll be staying here from now on. Your room is in the west wing, just opposite the _washi_ door that opens onto a flower garden. You won't miss it - it has a floral pattern painted on to it. Now go! You'll be summoned in the morning for breakfast.'

* * *

'It's Salmon Daikon. Never had it before?'

It's breakfast, and Mr. Açores is referring to a dish consisting of… chunks of salmon tossed in vinegar and soya sauce, garnished with some pickled cabbage. For a while, I just stared at the food – not because I was reluctant to eat it, but because I just wasn't hungry.

'Eat,' he orders, stern.

Admitting defeat, I felt around the surface of the table for chopsticks, but was stopped by Mr. Açores.

'No, no. This you eat with your hands.'

He demonstrated by plopping a piece into his mouth. 'Mmf… mmf.' – the sound he made while chewing somehow gave me the impression that it was something that tasted wonderful, so I hastily tried it myself.

_!?_

It was… an acquired taste.

Verysour, with not much relish, but the vinegar exemplified the taste of the fish. I like fish – so this dish didn't taste all that bad. And the chunks (which came from the filet of the fish, as I learned from Mr. Açores) didn't contain any bones, so it was easy eating.

Scratch what I said earlier.

It was… a taste that slowly grew on me.

Damn - why'd he have to eat from my bowl?

'You like it?'

'…Yeah.'

Suddenly, I had regained my appetite - so I ate.

Voraciously.

Like a wolf.

As if I'd never had a meal in my life.

And in the end, I felt satisfied.

'I had the salmon shipped all the way from Sakhalin,' he explained abruptly, 'that's why it tastes so good. Of course, the way it was prepared also helps…'

_Come to think of it, who cooked it?_

_I doubt it was Mr. Açores, because he didn't look the type that cooked his own meals. _

_He looked like a man who lived in relative comfort and leisure – not that it was an explicitly bad thing, because it wasn't. _

_But still…_

'Makomo!'

'Huh-'

Instantly, the _washi_ shutter opened, revealing a girl of small stature – close to my age – kneeling down, not quite prostrating, but clearly in a position of respect.

'Yes?' Her voice was dainty and childlike.

'Introduce yourself.'

She raised her head, placing her eyes on me.

'I'm Makomo.'

_Well, I knew that much…_

'…Giyuu.'

Awkward silence ensued.

…

'Makomo, show him around the house.'

'Yes.'

It was all very sudden – Makomo immediately disappeared into the hallway, leaving me alone with Mr. Açores. Her footsteps dimmed at an alarming rate, and I was pulled up from by seat, before being edged into the hallway.

'You'd better catch up with her,' he tells me, head peeking out of the doorway, 'I'm going to study now. Don't come back here within the next 2 or 3 hours. If you need anything… ask Makomo.'

Without giving me a chance to reply, he closed the fusuma shut.

* * *

'This is the kitchen…

'This is the master bedroom…

'This is the genkan…

'This is the…'

_Hey, hey… _

_No way this small girl can move so fast. _

_It's all a blur. _

_I'm struggling to keep up with her. _

_We come to one room – no, we're at the next. _

_If that sounds confusing to you, just imagine the disillusion I felt._

A screeching, terrible series of chimes halts my train of thought.

'Oh – that's the bell,' Makomo said, sounding very sure of herself, 'you best go back to your room. As for me, I have to return to _Urokodaki-sama. _Goodbye.'

_Huh? Bell for what?_

_And why should I go back to my room?_

_Is… someone coming? _

'Hurry. They're coming. This is a school, Giyuu. Children come here - it would be best not to get in the way of children, unless you want to be trampled. Goodbye, again.'

And with that, she turned around the corner of the hallway, footsteps so light they may have well been inaudible.

_Huh… what a strange girl._

What sounded like a stampede of children started to from emanate outside, growing ever closer. Soon, the sound of footsteps clambering onto wooden boards echoed throughout the hallway. I darted back to my room, and waited until they had died out.

A few muffled, authoritative calls silenced the remnants of chatter among the children, and I looked out of a peep-hole to see that the hallway was empty once again.

But soon, the footsteps of a group marching in unison approached from down the aisle. I put my eye to the hole, squinting, and soon a ragtag gang of kids came into sight. They were of all shapes and sizes, each unique in their own right, but one stood out to me: a small, weak-looking boy that held the impression of the leader of the group. His gait was firm, and he had an iron look in his eyes.

They stopped in front of the flower-patterned washi door, and the boy which had struck me beforehand swung it open. A girl dribbling a temari ball was called forward by him, and they exchanged words. The conversation was pretty one-sided, though, and it looked as if she was receiving instruction. After she was dismissed, the girl ran and disappeared into the hallway, confirming my suspicions. The rest of the group stepped inside, and slammed the panel shut behind them.

_What was that?_

From what I know about school… you aren't allowed to go out during lessons. But they were just strolling around, without a care in the world. And that girl – she was running. Running on wooden planks created a lot of noise, and I think running as a whole is prohibited inside a school.

But I didn't deliberate on the matter further.

Around, I think, only five minutes later, I heard multiple pairs of footsteps rushing down the aisle, one in a particular tempo that I recognised. During this time, the ball rang again, and children had now flooded the outside grounds of the property, playing, laughing, and chattering.

I looked through the hole, and indeed, it was the temari girl that I saw earlier, but now accompanied by another girl in a bland kimono, and what looked like a very restrictive hairstyle. They stopped by the flower-patterned door, panting.

She was led inside by said temari girl, and I couldn't help but have my curiousity piqued - the fact that the new face looked rather bewildered also contributed.

But despite that, I chose to remain inside my room. I tip-toed over to my futon, which I had yet to pack up, and slid inside it.

Why? I don't know. There wasn't a chance I was going to fall asleep with all that noise, and even if the break ended, there was still the harsh light that sifted through the translucent washi panels on the upper side of the walls.

It just… felt warm, I guess.

Before I could slip into any deeper thought, the chaotic sound of children clammering and scramming pounded my ears. I rushed to the hole and peeked through – the washi door was left wide open, with nobody in sight.

_Were… they gone?_

It seemed that was the case. And in that moment, my curiousity got the best of me. I slid my door open, careful as to make as least noise as possible, closed it behind me, and tip-toed my way to the doorway. I swung my head right, then left, then right again, and made sure nobody was there.

And then, I stepped inside.

* * *

_Why… does this place feel so familiar?_

_It's as if somehow, sometime, in a distant memory, I've been here before._

_And this feeling… what is this feeling? _

_Comfort? Warmth? _

_Nostalgia?_

_I feel… at home here._

_All my worries are slowly fading._

_It's a strange, giddy feeling._

_But - this place should be completely unfamiliar. _

_I have no memories of it._

_Despite that, why?_

_Why do I feel so at ease here?_

…

_Hm? _

_What's that over there? _

_That thing crumpled on the ground?_

…

_..?!_

_A girl?_

_And… she looks hurt! _

This girl was you, Shinobu."

* * *

"I'm sorry. I don't remember much more than that…"

"No, no. It's fine." Kanae replied, trying to maintain some composure, but choking on her words in the process. Giyuu's story had left me sick – not out of disgust, for his actions or the way he handled himself, but sick with guilt, because of the things he went through.

I choked up slightly, and felt my eyes growing foggy, but I held them in. My throat burned, my heart heaved, and I felt disillusioned. Kanae noticed my weariness and placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing in an attempt to sooth me.

"We're almost there," she whispered, pulling me towards her.

I couldn't help but feel bad, though. Here I was, being embraced in the arms of a loving older sister, while Giyuu had just lost his. He just walked – the type of walk without purpose or direction, and stared down vacantly. He trudged his feet in the dirt, and looked miserable.

Kanae must've sensed this, too, because she nudged me, motioning me to say something, for I knew more about him than she did, always had a way with people, and was endearing in my youthfulness.

"Giyuu?" I asked, stretching out my hand. He looked up at me.

"Don't feel sad. I'll hold your hand."

He looked startled for a second, before letting his head sink back down again, continuing on his own path. I thought he had rejected the offer, but I noticed that, slowly and surely, he was closing the distance between us. He stopped right beside me, still walking, being motionless for quite some time, before grasping my hand with his.

It was cold, and rough, and covered with sores, but… soothing. Soothing to hold, in its own right. Large and firm, yet gentle. It was an indescribable, giddy feeling, but one that was familiar in its novelty.

_When did the first tears start trailing down? _

Was it a spur of the moment, an emotion caused by circumstance, or a result of a trail that led back much further? Ever since his sister died, he has kept all his emotions locked up inside. Not once has he had a chance to let out the torrent of feelings bottled within – those painful, heart-wrenching sentiments tearing at his heart, fighting to escape.

_When indeed?_

But it doesn't matter now.

Beads of milky crystalline and the trail they left behind draped Giyuu's cheeks, who tried to wipe them away with the corner of his sister's vermillion haori. But no matter how much he rubs, how much he tries to stifle them, they keep flowing. They don't stop.

We halt, and gather around him – Kanae's palm still on my shoulder, Giyuu's hand still entwined with my own. I rest my other hand on his, gripping tighter.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but as soon as he uttered the first syllable the tears overwhelmed his voice, and the words failed to come out. Kanae placed her hand on his back, and massaged up-and-down.

"Th-thanks..." he murmured, but we don't reply. We don't need to reply. In its stead, our actions spoke for itself.

We continued to coddle him and eventually, the tears stopped. It was a relief for all of us that Giyuu, at least by appearance, felt a little better. We continued down the trail, now with an improved pace, and even making some idle conversation along the way.

We walked hand-in-hand, our heads in the clouds, a spring in our step, and a feeling of bliss in out hearts.

And soon, we arrived at the gates of the Kochou Estate.

* * *

**A/N**

Well, I'm happy to have ended off this chapter on a happy note. Just thought that the previous installments were all doom'n'gloom and wanted a change of tone. Sorry for the late update; the school term's just started and I've been hit **heavy. **But it's cool. I did most of this chapter during the holidays, and finished the rest today because I've got quite the bit of free time. Anyways, that's all. Peace!


	6. Innocence Broken

_But it was all a lie._

Giyuu leans back, the paper dangling in his fingers, one hand unconsciously clinging to the right-hand side of his haori, and the other supporting his back off the floor.

He lets out a sigh – it's heavy, and the wrenching feeling in his gut doesn't go away.

A part of him wants to stop there – to not read any further.

There's still a long way to go in the letter, but…

Would it hurt to just halt there?

Or at least, to skip a bit?

…Would it?

Because Giyuu knew full well what was going to happen next.

A tragedy that changed their lives forever – one that he could have easily prevented.

…

"_Be a man."_

_Yes, I know. You don't have to tell me again. _

The words are stalwart, and Giyuu could've sworn he uttered his thoughts out loud. He attempts to turn around, slightly out of paranoia, also to check on Tanjiro, but a shooting pain immobilises his body, and he crumples to the ground. It takes a scrutinising while of writhing and pushing against the ground to get himself back up again.

He groans when catching sight of the pool of blood that had accumulated on the ground, and looks down at himself to find that the deep cut on his leg had re-opened. He grumbles again – partly at the pain, mostly at his own incompetence in treating wounds.

_Shinobu would've done it better. _

Tanjiro was still sound asleep, looking as peaceful as anyone could after nearly losing his life in a fight that may or may not have been worth it, _should_ it have come to that – at least, in Giyuu's eyes. For Tanjiro, it was probably different, and he understood that, but…

He'd seen for his own eyes what revenge could do to a person.

How it could warp them.

How it could _kill_ them.

Even when the object of their vengeance didn't.

_It was a fate which I only narrowly escaped - due to the sacrifices of many others, and perhaps even a part of myself. _

_It's the same for Shinobu. _

_And that damned demon who I cannot bring myself to hate._

…

Heh… what was he doing, pondering such faraway, heavy things?

Giyuu slinks back into the warmth of the fire, this time with greater caution, and props himself up, paper folded out in hand. But he doesn't read – instead, he sits still.

He sits still – but he isn't idle.

Giyuu pieces together his own recollection of the events that occurred that night.

The tragedy that took place – and the lives that were shattered.

Soon, he is sucked into a deep sea of thought.

* * *

_I remember… I remember how we walked together, how I was comforted, and… _

_Shinobu, too._

She was crying – I think. My head was hung down the whole time, and I could only see her in the corner of my vision, but it was unmistakable. Shinobu was facing away from me, her arms having found their way up to her face, rubbing. When she pulled them away, I saw a watery gloss left on her palms. Her muffled snivelling made my heart pang with an inexplicable melancholy, but I kept quiet.

I didn't know what to say, and even if I did, I would've probably chosen to remain silent. Sometimes, just leaving things alone is the most effective remedy - I tell myself this now, but back then, it most likely would've been merely because I was scared.

At the time, I didn't understand _why_ she was crying. Very few at that age would have - especially not a foolish twelve-year old like myself. Was it sympathy? For the tragedies of a boy who effectively had nothing to do with her? Or was she pretending - pretending because she felt pressured to?

In the case of the latter, I hate myself for having thought such inconsiderate things about her.

Shinobu tried desperately to hide her tears, but, it was small things like that which betrayed her. It was a glint of compassion in a heartless world.

Approaching the latter part of our journey, the path took us uphill, which proved a very strenuous climb, also in part due to the fact that there was no proper road for us to follow – only a mere line in the dirt.

Kanae and I didn't have any particular difficulty for the most part, but Shinobu was clearly having a hard time. I was now bringing up the rear of the group, with Kanae out front, and many a time had I caught Shinobu by her shoulders whenever she fumbled or faltered.

"_Spring in our step." – what did you mean by that, Shinobu? Looking back, that was far from the case. You couldn't even walk straight, let alone ascend such a steep hill._

Her clothes were damp and feverishly warm – a bad omen I knew all too well myself. I called out to Kanae, asking that we rest.

"We have to get back soon," she replied, still facing forward, "our mother is expecting us."

At that point, I should've gotten annoyed with Kanae, but…

Then I remembered what Douma had told me:

"_Demons live long lives - perhaps even infinite – and have fantastic regeneration abilities, but also cannot stand sunlight…"_

Just the very remembrance of his words sent a chill down my spine.

If what he said was true, then we were in danger. His wording could have meant anything – either that there are many demons out there, or very few – but he did mention one critical detail: that most of them resided in Japan. And if he wasn't lying – in conjunction with the former option - it would have truly proved a worst-case scenario.

Every different possibility rushed in and out of my head. An agonizing ringing sound took grip of my ears. I felt my extremities begin to grow numb, and then…

_He_ was there.

Douma was there, standing in front of us; a deathly, hallowing, asymmetric grin spreading from one ear to the other. Even though I knew it was but a mirage, I stopped dead out of fear, nearly falling over due to not having feeling in my legs anymore. Douma looked dead straight at me, not caring for Shinobu and Kanae - with one arm left at rest at his side, and the other hidden behind his body.

And then, he revealed what was concealed behind him.

My sister's body – _Tsutako's body. _She was being held by the neck, and it looked wringed just as it had before. Her head hung towards the ground like a wilted flower, and her face – with eyes so dull, so hollow; and features so chillingly compromised of life – was looking straight at me…

"Come, come…" he whispered, gesturing by curling his fingers towards him, "come and join your sister. She misses you here…"

With every word he uttered, and every breath I took, it felt as if I was having my conscious sucked out of me, and I very nearly collapsed – but was pulled back into reality by one of Shinobu's cries.

Almost by way of the snap of a finger, the image of Douma dissipated, and the nausea clutching my body faded.

I looked down, and only after a few moments did I register what I was looking at; Shinobu had fallen once again, and I, regrettably, had failed to catch her. I hastily helped her back up before Kanae could notice - which she seemed to had not, strangely.

Shinobu's body was feverishly warm and damp with sweat. With each hoarse, agonisingly palpable breath she took, her throat ground up from the inside - cracked and dry - and she trembled.

The moment I let go of Shinobu, foolishly thinking that she could stand on her own, the girl nearly toppled. I barely caught her, silently berating myself, and making it a point to carry her for the duration of the journey.

_On that note, how long was left? How far was there still to go? This place isn't safe – hell, nowhere is during the night. _

_Shinobu can barely walk anymore – and I'm pretty tired myself._

"Kanae," Shinobu called out, her voice a strained whisper, "this isn't the way that lady took me this morning." I was surprised she could even speak.

"I know," Kanae replied, tone unnervingly cool, "this is a different way. Did you notice anything peculiar about this route we are taking?"

She replied that she had not.

"And you, Giyuu?"

My answer was the same as Shinobu's. How could I, anyway? It was pitch-black, and the difficulty of the trail had reduced my sight to tunnel vision.

Suddenly, Kanae stopped dead. She walked a few paces to the left, stuck her hand into the darkness, and pulled what looked like a bunch of burned incense sticks. She approached me, and upon closer inspection, I found that they were in fact, flowers of an ashen hue.

But then, she pulled back a petal, revealing a beautiful lavender-hued crest that was of so rich a colour, it was like nothing I had ever seen before.

"What's that?" I asked. Shinobu stared in silent wonder along with me, awestruck.

"It's a species of flower called Wisteria," Kanae replied, "it protects us from _them_."

_Protect us from demons? Is that even possible?_

_If so, what does it do? _

_Ward them off? Distract them? Tempt them to eat it, before poisoning them?_

_And you could've told me earlier, too._

_Still, I shouldn't be ungrateful. It's reassuring to know nonetheless. _

"But enough of that. We'll be arriving soon."

_Hmm? But I don't see anything. _

"Just follow me."

We continued up the path a few metres onward, until coming across a bend where the latter part of the road was hidden behind a large boulder. We traversed it, and came upon a sheer cliff…

And - for a moment, I could not believe my eyes.

It was beautiful.

Magnificent.

Opulent.

A vast, splendid wooden complex in the centre, surrounded by rows and rows of the most dazzling displays of flowers I had ever seen.

The scene was alight with different hues of purple, green, orange, fuchsia and blue – the result of their brilliant colours merging with the ambient light of the many torches situated throughout the estate.

"Welcome," said Kanae, "to our home."

* * *

I had left a letter on Mr Açores' desk explaining the details of my departure, so I was sure staying overnight at another's home would be quite alright. It wasn't like I was formally_ living _there, in any case. Though, looking back, it was extremely rude of me.

But, I would have never expected their home to be of such a scale.

In Japan, only the middle-class makes use of rickshaws, whereas the upper-class takes western-style carriages. This should've been especially the case in the region where Shinobu and I lived, which had a strong colonial influence. But only an _exceedingly _rich family would have been able to afford something like this…

That didn't come to mind at the time, however. I was absorbed in the estate's beauty – keeping my gaze pinned on all the different kinds of flora and the elaborate patterns in which they were arranged. We treaded downhill with newfound adrenaline, and navigated the endless maze of flowers towards the house.

The maiden of the household – Shinobu and Kanae's mother – was there to greet us. She was sitting in a chair in the garden, not so much lounging, as she looked sick with worry, and immediately jumping up and bolting towards us when caught sight of.

She pulled the two into an embrace, remaining so for some time all the while rubbing the backs of their heads and muttering soothing things into their ear, before disengaging and experiencing a complete change in approach.

"And where have you been?!" Her bellow echoed throughout the mountainside, and I swear I could've seen some birds take flight.

"At school, _Maman_, we just had trouble getting back home."

'_Maman'? I'd never heard that before. _

"And the rickshaw we sent to pick you up? You were supposed to back home at 3! And you _would've been_ if only you waited for it. And now, it's 9 – no, nearing 10! And Shinobu! Oh, Shinobu! What happened?!"

Shinobu, who voluntarily let go of me a few moments prior, finally gave in and collapsed – being caught intermediately by her mother. The expression of concern on her face may as well have been equal to that of Shinobu's exhaustion at our time of arrival.

"Come quickly, Kanae. We'll talk about this later. And you too."

* * *

Whilst Shinobu was being treated by Mrs Kochou – which I had taken to calling her - Kanae took the liberty of explaining my situation to her.

At first, I winced at the idea of having the details of my sister's death spilled all over again, and how it would have painted _me _in a pathetic light – so goes the mentality of a child, who takes it upon itself to shoulder everything when it comes to matters concerning those they hold dear.

It was almost entirely a lie, however, but it did go to show how shrewd Kanae was for her age. The story went, that, I had become lost whilst playing in the woods, and needed a place to stay for the

night. It was simple – but it worked, it seemed. Telling the truth would have only complicated things.

But it was a silent agreement. There was nothing said to confirm it yet.

Mrs Kochou left Shinobu's side at the hearth, and approached me, taking a seat in front of me, who was in the far corner of the room.

"Is it true?"

An unexpected question; one that caught me off guard. I glanced at Kanae, who seemed just as fettered.

I should've just said 'yes' right away, but I didn't. _Something _had barred me from doing so. Something unconscious – something I wasn't aware of. As soon as I had failed to conjure up an answer instantly, _she_ knew. I'm sure of it.

An auspicious glint in her eyes. A slight pause in her breathing. A softening in her stance.

She knew that it was a lie. Kanae was smart, but she was much smarter.

I held my breath. It was coming.

Those words of rejection.

And yet, she said nothing.

I looked up – Mrs Kochou had retreated back to Shinobu's side, tending graciously.

At first, I didn't know what to think. My eyes found their way to Kanae, who donned a relieved expression. It gradually came to me, and with some uncertainty, I realised she had accepted.

"Kanae. He'll have to sleep in your room for the night – Shinobu, too. It's best someone be there to watch her, lest something happens. I have to work late tonight. For now, show him to there. Come fetch your sister when you're done. It's about time you get to bed, anyway."

Kanae nodded in silent agreement. I got up, silently as I could, and followed her into one of the hallways leading out of the room.

_Such a big house, and I have to share a room. I'm not complaining, not at all. I just find it strange. And I'm in no position to protest - don't want to inquire, either. I'm afraid it might come off as rude._

"Oh, and… may I have your name?" Mrs Kochou inquired, stopping me.

"Giyuu."

"…"

"…Tomioka."

"That's a nice name, Giyuu."

"…Thank you."

She didn't seem to recognise my surname, which I shamefully confess to have relieved me at the time.

I trailed behind Kanae, who walked at an unnaturally brisk pace, despite the exhausting hike we had just endured, and grinded to a sudden halt at a door with flower-adorned livery.

We opened it, and stepped inside.

I was greeted with a quaint, pleasant room – only four tatami mats in size _('tatami mat' is a unit of measurement for surface area of a room in Japan, in conjunction with it being the traditional choice of flooring) _– which had petite, charming furnishings, and a huge, polarising stand supporting an equally huge, polarising amount of beauty products and stationery in the far corner. Everything had floral patterns painted on it.

At the time, the concept of a room all to oneself was novel to me. My sister and I lived in a somewhat dingy one-roomed cottage, with not much furnishings - save for a stove, table, some drawers, and our two futons, which were always laid out because there was nowhere to stow them away – but it had a homely feel nonetheless.

"Make yourself at home."

I didn't know what to reply – I didn't even know what it _meant. _Make yourself at home? But this wasn't my home, it was yours. And it would remain so for as long as can be.

Such was the woes of a country boy who had never received a single guest, or had been received, in his whole life.

I stood there, not knowing what to do with my hands, or my eyes, or anything at all, as I was quite bewildered by the room, so I observed Kanae, who seemed to be laying out the futons. Reaching into a cupboard, she pulled out one which, in accordance with the rest of her room, _had a floral pattern, _and another one - which required her to scrounge much deeper - that was dusty as all hell and in an ugly, washed-out blue.

"I'm sorry it's so dirty. It used to be one of the chef's, but she left a while ago. Here – I'll clean it out for you. Help me to hold it up."

With a futon beater, she struck it over and over, and soon, the futon looked closed to new. Strange, how something so rudimentary can have yield such profound results.

_On the topic of cleaning…_

"Giyuu!" I heard Mrs Kochou call from the other room, "I've prepared a bath for you. Come, you can't go to bed like that."

_Like… that? I didn't sense contempt in her tone, but…_

A few moments later, and I'm being wafted in a soothing hot tub, alone with my thoughts and a bottle of conditioner.

It was a modern-looking piece, made out of an unfamiliar material, that stuck out among the motley of various-sized wooden barrels in the bathroom.

Much like myself, and how I was a stranger in an unfamiliar household.

…

In there, I felt that time seemed to pass slowly, quickly, and not at all, at the same time. By some point, I began to feel my eyelids grow heavy. I lifted my hands out of the now lukewarm water, and saw that my skin had become leathery and raisin-textured. Taking it as a subtle reminder of the length of time I must have already spent in there, I lifted myself out, and put on the _jinbei _laid out for me.

Kanae and I assisted Shinobu into the room, with me helping her to settle in, and Kanae rushing to their mother's quarters to fetch her sister's futon.

I learned, with mild bemusement, that Shinobu still slept with her mother in the same room. Hence, why I couldn't simply sleep in _her room._ It didn't make a lot of sense to me, though, because what of the other numerous rooms in the house?

"Sorry if you feel uncomfortable with us. It's just that both my parents are pharmacists, and all the other rooms are filled with things they use for work." Kanae spoke up, seemingly reading my thoughts.

_Oh,__ I get it. But, also on that note, what of the father?_

"No, it's fine," I replied.

"And… are you sure you want to wear that haori in bed? I could-"

"_No."_

…

_Shit, my tone was too harsh._

"I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Don't worry about it. I know how much it must mean to you," she replied, an assuring smile tugging her lips.

"Heh… thanks."

In this, I came to discover that Kanae was quite a compassionate and understanding girl – something which I greatly appreciated, and would continue to do so in the future.

…

We laid out our futons next to each other, and climbed in, with me in the middle, Kanae to my left, and Shinobu at my right, who passed out almost instantaneously…

…leaving Kanae and I alone. After some awkward silence, where we both lay awake without a word being uttered, I took the opportunity to inquire about her father.

"Kanae?"

"Hmm?"

"...Where is your father?"

"What's this all of sudden? He's just at work. Staying out late, helping patients in town, I guess."

"That's cool," I replied, worrying I may have annoyed her, judging from the lukewarm answer.

"My mother and father both work very hard. The load on them has only been heavier ever since most of the houseworkers left."

"…Why'd they leave?"

"I don't know. Some said it was because they found better work, some that they just wanted to move on, and others just… disappeared."

"…"

"But it's fine. I have my family, and you."

_And me?_

"What do you mean, me?"

"You live by that school now, right? With someone named Mr Açores. I'll visit you often, since you'll probably be lonely there."

"…Thanks."

…

Silence once again ensued. Perhaps it was just the natural culmination of a conversation; that at some point there would be nothing else to talk about. I thought Kanae had fallen asleep, and I was getting ready to as well, but, one last question beckoned me…

"What was your sister like?"

I was quite taken aback, even if I did not show it. I think that, any other person would've been offended by the question, or at least felt it uncomfortable; and they would have felt that their silence - should they have chosen not to confide - was obligatory. But, not me.

"She was… a beautiful person. Kind, caring, loving, wise… She was the one I loved the most… and…"

For some reason, my memory of Tsutako was vague; fuzzy. I strained my mind, attempting to grasp something, something definite, but… nothing. I thought it to be just a temporary dizzy spell, and brushed it off.

"And… what's your fondest memory of her?"

_A sensible question. One that I know just the answer to._

"One time, when she…"

_What?_

_What was I going to say?_

_When Kanae asked me, the answer just clicked, subconsciously. I didn't put it into words in my head immediately, but it was supposed to simply roll off my tongue._

_Strange – I don't remember._

"No, nevermind. This one time, we… we…"

_We… huh? What – what was I going to say?_

_I can't remember that either. _

_Fondest memory… fondest memory… Tsutako…_

_What? No._

_No. _

_No!_

_I can't remember anything..!_

_Nothing at all._

_How-_

_How?!_

_No - it can't be._

_Think. Think!_

_Try to remember her._

_Her face._

_Her voice._

_Her character._

_That haori she always wore._

_The supper she often made. _

_The lullaby she used to sing to you. _

…

_No._

_It's useless._

_I can't remember a single thing._

_Not a damned thing!_

"Giyuu?"

_How? _

_How?!_

_Maybe, maybe it's just temporary. Perhaps my head will clear up later._

_No._

_That's not true._

_I'm not in a state where my mind is completely clouded._

_I should still be able to think properly._

_No – **I can.**_

_And yet, I can remember hardly anything at all!_

_No, no, no-_

"Giyuu!"

Kanae's distressed cry ripped me from my trance, back into reality.

_I'm sweating._

_My heart is racing._

_I'm barely breathing._

_My whole body is sore._

_Time feels as if its frozen._

"You… you looked like you'd just seen death!"

I looked up. Climbed out of her futon and now posed at my side was Kanae, looking worried sick.

_Did I look that bad?_

"I'm sorry! I never should have asked-"

"No, no, it's… fine. Please keep your voice down."

Fortunately, Shinobu didn't seem to have been woken up by the ruckus. There she lay, peaceful, bliss even, snoozing without a care in the world; a sick girl looking more well than I ever had in the past few days.

I didn't know what else to say - I was disillusioned.

"We should get to bed now, Kanae," I muttered, "don't worry about me. It's… only a headache. I'll be fine in the morning."

Kanae didn't reply, and kept still, staring. The tension of her expression didn't fade as she gazed, unblinking.

"Kanae-"

"No, it's not you. Look."

She pointed to the far side of the room shrouded in darkness, where moonlight failed to reach.

"**Doesn't it look like…"**

_I could barely make out what seemed to be a-_

"…**someone's…"**

_-silhouette-_

"…**there?"**

_-of a man!?_

First, there was a pause.

And then, with demonic voracity and speed, the figure leaped towards us with a deafening roar. I pulled Kanae towards me, rolling over to Shinobu's side as it tore through the air, ripping the _tatamis _in its path, and latching into the ground with sharp, black lacquered nails, stopping its momentum.

For an instant, it was still under the moonlight, facing away from us, and then, it coiled its body around, giving way for a shocking revelation.

_It's the boy from before..!_

_The one from Mr A__ç__ores' place!_

But - he was vastly different.

Previously, he was petite in stature and short in height, with golden-blonde hair and a subdued manner. Now, he was far too large to be called the same person – well over 180 centimetres tall – with well-defined, deep musculature that a ragged yukata did little to hide.

_But wait – if he was a demon all along, then how was he walking in broad daylight?_

Too little time to think. He posed to strike again, and I grabbed Shinobu just in time before he ripped through the air, smashing into the wall. Debris flew throughout the room, almost in slow-motion, as I felt the adrenaline begin to take over me.

Footsteps rushed down the hallway, and the shutter flew open, revealing who was presumably Shinobu's father with a massive stake in hand. With not a moment to spare, he rushed the demon, thrusting the spike into its chest.

"**Kanae! Shinobu! Run!"**

He pinned the creature onto the floor, pushing with the entire weight of his body. The monster struggled against the force, ripping and pulling the tatami mats towards itself as it grappled to turn the tide.

"**Go! And you! Run down to the town and ask for help! Hurr-"**

The last syllable never came. The demon, in a motion that was akin to that of a tiger slaughtering its prey, palmed his head off with such strength and speed, I could barely perceive it. The head floated in the air, a sporadic trail of blood following it, and landed right in front of us. I barely managed to cover Shinobu's eyes.

Only then did I truly realise the danger we were in.

Kanae was frozen in place with horror – a stream of tears already draping her cheeks – but I forced her away, along with Shinobu, and escaped through the hole busted in the wall.

We ran into the kitchen, stopping in front of a cupboard sizeable enough to contain two people. I opened it; luckily, it was empty.

I could hear the heavy footsteps of the demon treading down the hallway heading towards us. Time was limited – I needed to make this quick.

...

I hurried Kanae and Shinobu into the cupboard, exchanging no words, before they were inside safely.

For a moment, they looked shocked when I stayed in place instead of joining them.

"Kanae, I'm going to make a break for the town. Stay here – and don't make a sound!"

"B-but mo-mother..?"

"Forget about her! I mean… no! She's fine, I know it. For now, just stay _here, _and keep _quiet. _And if it comes to a point where you need it, here."

I handed them a knife I had snatched up from one of the counters. Kanae palmed it warily, almost as if she didn't know what to do with it, and looked back up at me feebly.

"What… are you…"

"I swear I'll be back soon."

I stood up, getting ready to leave, but…

"No… Giyuu… please…" Shinobu begged, staring so helplessly into my eyes, tears streaming from her own, tugging my sleeve with what must have been the absolute last of her strength. My heart panged with sorrow – _that look, _from _that girl, _was the last thing I needed right now.

It wasn't right – not as a friend; not as a human - to just leave her there, absolutely defenseless, but it was the most logical option. If Shinobu and Kanae came with me, they'd only be dead weight.

"I promise, promise I'll come back. I promise! So please!"

_Promises were the only things I could offer at that point. _

Shinobu tried to sputter some sort of protest, but, by then, I was already gone.

_Empty, unrealistic promises._

My conscious ached to the core as she desperately called out to me, beckoning me to come back, pleading for me to stay, _screaming my name with all her power,_ before being abruptly cut off.

_Thank you, Kanae._

In response, I screamed too, attempting to divert the demon's attention.

I sprinted through the hallways, beating against the walls, throwing whatever happened to be nearby; but stopping for a brief moment when catching sight of the satchel I had carried on me for the past few days, containing the last mementos of my sister Tsutako.

_I'll be coming back here. I'm sure of it. I don't need to take it with._

…

_No! Now's not the time!_

In what was a spontaneous decision, I scooped it up and continued running.

Soon, I reached the genkan - Mrs Kochou's corpse lay solemnly in the corner of the room, only the slightest trace of blood trailing her cheek. She too had that look in her eyes – begging, imploring me to remain behind – but…

_I simply could not._

I continued sprinting through the gardens.

_No, no, no!_

Back up the trail.

_Not them too..!_

Into the mountains.

_I have to save them..!_

And down the slopes.

_Just as they saved me!_

All the while damning myself for what had just occurred.

I ran and ran until I was sure I could run no more, and even then, I continued running, fueled only by a desire to prevent what had already happened once before.

The first houses popped up in the distance – motivating me even further to sprint like I had never before.

I reached the door in record time, panting, barely able to hear anything else beside the frantic throbbing of my heart against my ears.

I knocked. No reply.

I knocked again, harder. Still no reply.

At my wit's end, I began to scream out loud, bang on the door, and slam my feet. Suddenly, the door swung open - without any precedence or prior indication - revealing a gaunt, dejected-looking man, that loomed over me with a frightening ambience.

"Please, sir, you have to help! My friends are being attacked by demons!"

"…Demons? The fuck you on about? Go home. I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Please!"

"…"

"Please!"

"Fuck off!"

"I'm telling the truth!"

…

"_Alright, _then. Tell me about these… _demons."_

"Please, just come with me! There's no time!"

"_You damn imbecile! I asked you a question! _Then, _in that case,_ at least give me a name to work with!

_Huh?_

I blinked, confused.

"Are you a dumbass? You don't understand the fucking question, or what?! Their names, surnames, I mean!"

_Out of everything, he fucking cares for that?_

"The Kochou's!"

The very instant I uttered the name, his expression softened. It turned from one of doubt and annoyance, to one of alleviation.

"Ahh… I see," he sounded relieved, happy even, "thank you for bringing the news. I apologise for my rude behaviour before."

"Huh-" I started, utterly confused, but was cut off.

"I've been waiting for this day for a long time. Myself, and many others."

"What do you-"

"Thank you, young man. I'll be going back to bed now. You take care of yourself."

_He was anticipating the attack on the Kochou household? _

But, blinded by emotion, I gave his words no further thought.

"Wait-" I tried to stop him, but he had already closed the door shut.

"No. No! You have to help! Please!"

_Fuck. It's not working!_

I ran to the next house, and banged on the door furiously – to no avail.

Then the next.

And the next.

And the next.

But still - nothing.

All the houses that still had lights on, I rushed to – but they dimmed as soon as I reached them.

The streets were dead – nobody roamed them. The town was deafeningly, eerily quiet. The solemn light of the moon was polarising against the pitch-black darkness of night. Nothing made sense – not this situation, not the people's behavior – _nothing!_

I began to panic – but then I remembered.

_Mr A__ç__ores' house! _

Perching myself up on some scaffolding, I caught sight of the massive complex. I dashed towards it, soon faced with the familiar imposing wooden door; and beat on it as hard as I could, screamed as loud as I could, and cried as desperately as I could.

And yet…

_Despite my best efforts -_

_Regardless of my pleads –_

_And in complete disregardance of my emotions –_

…there was nothing.

Just an unforgiving, crushing silence.

I felt broken.

I wanted to cry.

Overwhelming nausea clenched my gut.

My legs wavered beneath me.

Pus and blood oozed out of my hands.

A dry, scathing throb could be felt in my throat.

_I'm useless._

_Completely… damn… useless!_

"Ah! Giyuu."

_Wait. That sounds familiar!_

I looked towards the source of the voice.

_Makomo!_

"You… don't look well," her tone was wry and devoid of emotion – but I was nevertheless overjoyed to see her.

"Makomo! Thank… god! No..! Don't worry about me! My friends… are… being attacked… by a demon! Please! You… have to help! I'm telling the truth… I swear!"

"Calm down. I believe you. But – I doubt I can do anything on my own. Follow me; I know someone who can help."

"Please… is it far?"

"No. Not at all."

I trailed behind Makomo – who was still as nimble as she was before – and was led me back into the mountainside, up the slopes of a rather prominent mountain.

I struggled to keep pace – I could feel myself slowing down. The latent fatigue of a past half-an-hour of constant sprinting was beginning to accumulate on me.

Sturdy fields of grass and earth degraded into bogs of mud and dirt, and along with it, my frenzied run into an exhausting tread.

The last thing I remember… was seeing Makomo in the far distance, now but a barely visible dot in the grand landscape of the escarpment, before my vision swung downwards towards the ground, and along with it, my body - before being buried in a mass of mud and dirt.

_Huh?_

_I'm not moving anymore._

_I've… fallen._

_No._

_I have to get up._

_I must._

_I can't… I can't give up now._

_No._

_I feel lightheaded._

_My body is getting cold._

_Drowsiness is beginning to envelop me._

_All my senses are starting to fade._

_No. No!_

_I won't!_

**_I can't!_**

_Shinobu! _

_Kanae!_

_I will..!_

_I must..!_

_I have to..!_

_I… promised… you…_

_No…_

_I'm… so… sorry._

_I couldn't… help you._

And then, everything went dark.

* * *

**A/N**

**\- The next few chapters will probably be focused on solely Shinobu and Kanae, but maybe I'll throw in a continuation of Giyuu's story, too. And yes, the romance part _is coming._**

**\- The death of Shinobu's father isn't exactly canon, as in the manga he was depicted sprawled out lifeless in front of her and Kanae, who were hiding in the cupboard. Error on my part, so just something to note.**

**\- 180 centimetres may not seem especially tall to most, but the average height in Japan at the time - for 17-year-old males - was about 160 centimetres. Courtesy of an article on Hatena Blog, whose link I'm not allowed to show.**

**-On Another Topic-**

**Hope you all are staying safe out there, what with this virus going around. Wash your hands often, don't touch your face, keep a distance from others; and you're good to go.**

**Turns out, my school closed because of it, which left me with a feeling of bliss that I probably should not have ****felt...**

**...as well as no excuses to not put out the latest chapter. So, here it is. **

**Please review, follow, and favourite :), even though the long wait may have proved I do not deserve it.**

**That's all. Stay safe!**


	7. Shattering

Nothing felt real anymore.

Back then, I thought it was all just some vivid, surreal dream – one that was a bit too lucid, too visceral; and had gone on somewhat long for my liking - but - it was going to pass, just like all dreams did…

_Right?_

Yes. It was indeed too real for comfort; too lifelike for me to ignore. But I gave it the benefit of the doubt, for something like _that _was simply impossible.

That humongous, demented man peering through the doors of the cupboard, his bloodshot pupils slanted like knives, breathing frenzied like a rabid dog; a pair of hideous, translucent hands giving way to twisted fingers, their soot-coloured nails scraping the wood from the inside, a crimson liquid dripping off of them – that too was just a part of the dream, right?

As well as Kanae's streaming tears.

Her gulps of fear.

The way she quivered as her arms were wrapped around me, bringing me towards her body, hanging on for dear life as much as she was embracing to reassure me.

And how her heart pounded like it never had before; beating so fast and so vigorously against my ears, as I clutched her shirt and buried my face into her chest, afraid.

_Why… am I afraid?_

_It's only a fantasy. Something I'm imagining. _

_I bet I'll wake up soon._

_Kanae will be at my side, still fast asleep; having snuck into the room the night prior because she was scared of being alone, as she always is._

_Mother will be in the kitchen, preparing my favourite breakfast, taking care not to tread too heavily, fearing she might wake us up, before her gaze nearly catches me, and I dive back into bed. _

_And Father will be the complete opposite; rushing around the house, scrambling to prepare for work, never quite knowing where his things were, before coming into our room – me still pretending to be asleep - and kissing us goodbye._

_Yes…_

_That's how it always goes. _

_That's how it always will go._

_I'll soon wake up from this nightmare, and relive it one more time._

_But then, why?_

_Why do the tears continue to streak my face?_

_Why is Kanae still holding onto me, tighter than ever before?_

_Why is the demon's hand now wrapped around my arm, his mouth gaping wide open?_

_Why, no matter how long I wait - no matter how much I want it to stop - does this dream continue?_

_Why - does it all feel so real?_

The next moment came and went in a flash.

I remember the thunderous clamour of a massive pair of footsteps rushing towards us - the demon relinquishing his grip in anticipation to face its bearer – before the last step landing directly overhead the cupboard, a thunderous roar being let out with it, and then…

The blinding glint of a humongous, spiked ball of steel smashing into the demon's head, pulverising it, and sending the creature flying to the other side of the room.

It was almost far too large to be called a weapon. An impossible, colossal ball of metal, embedded with spikes that were both longer and thicker than my own legs, dangling on a steel chain that whipped the air as it swung back into place.

The demon scrambled to its feet, half the skin having been torn off his face, revealing underneath patches of crimson muscle and gleaming white jawbone, barely clinging to its socket.

But he doesn't run. He's frozen in place – gazing at the figure that had so savagely mauled him.

The man that was now standing before us.

A man that could only be described as a giant.

So tall that the ceiling could barely encompass him.

Shoulders broader and wider than my own body.

Powerful, deep musculature comprising a humongous frame that defied anything I had ever seen before.

A jet-black uniform embroidered with white trimmings that was bursting at the seams.

And the olive-coloured _happi _that flapped in the air -

Revealing the Kanji sown onto the back, reading 'death'.

* * *

"You did well to hold out," he said, voice powerful and deep, yet soothing, "you're safe now."

Before giving me time to think, he leapt towards the demon – snapping the floorboards with the force – and swung his flail forward. The creature barely dodged as the wall behind it caved in, only to be ensnared by spikes as the man commandeered the weapon back into his hands.

The first rays of dawn began to sift through the gap in the wall, landing on the demons back. A sizzling sound arose as spots of skin began to vaporise, soon merging into a sizeable chunk of missing flesh. Blistering, molten-coloured tissue lined the edges of the gaps - too singed to even bleed – that broke off and floated into the air, turning into a black vapour, eventually dissipating.

The demon screamed – but before he could run, was strangled by a pulling of the wreath of chains surrounding his neck – cutting off the shriek immediately, and bringing him to his knees. Blood and saliva spew out of his mouth, and the skin surrounding that being gripped by the chains bulged and turned purple.

At what point, I wonder, did I come to accept the brutal reality playing out before my eyes?

My father lying dead-still in the hallway leading to my room, despite supposed to be preparing for work.

My mother's strange absence this morning, even though she was always the first to wake up.

And the boy with the red haori who never came back, regardless of the promise he made.

_It's all because… _

_They're dead, isn't it?_

* * *

I always thought happiness was like a road that winded far into the distance, without an end in sight. One that carried on forever, uninterrupted.

But it was then, at that moment, I realised our happiness was in fact, very fragile – as if it lay upon a thin sheet of glass, ready to be shattered at any given moment.

The very thing that had just occurred now.

And as I watched this demon trample upon our happiness – _shattering that glass _– what filled my heart wasn't rage –

Anger –

Despair –

Anguish –

Hopelessness –

Or even sadness.

Of course, I felt all these emotions at the time; and they damn right ripped me apart from the inside, but it was because of that something greater arose - in both myself, and Kanae:

**Resolve.**

**The resolve to grow stronger. **

**The resolve to better ourselves.**

**The resolve to fight the demons.**

**To be just like the man standing before us; a person who fought for others to protect them.**

**So that nobody would have to experience the same thing we did.**

We promised each other this…

…and set off on a journey that would take us to hell and back.


	8. Dear Fiancé

**\- N.B. for returning readers -**

**In Chapter 3, when Giyuu retells his encounter with Douma to Shinobu, he starts off by saying '…I was there, in her room. She was prepping herself for a date…' (referring to him and Tsutako) – I've made a revision of this:**

"…**I was there, in her room. She was rehearsing for some event the next day - prepping her appearance, the like…"**

'**Twas a mistake on my part – I apologise. The reason I've pinned such a seemingly small change in detail up here is that it'll prove essential for the story. ****You'll see how soon enough.**

* * *

An azure sky.

A radiant, benign colour.

Stretching as far as the eye can see.

Slivers of grey and white, puffy like smoke, line the sprawling blanket of blue. Complementing it, rays of golden sunlight bloom through and caress my skin, painting me in a serene warmth. I'm lying face up, and bending my head a few ways to the side, I saw that I was in a pasture of sorts.

…_My head?_

Rolling fields of green, ochre, shamrock and sage lay out before me, all looking oddly familiar, yet I can't quite put my finger on it.

_My finger?_

But… this isn't me.

This body - doesn't feel like mine.

It's lanky –

Cumbersome –

Hefty.

Yet not entirely without suppleness.

My face – it's no longer round and billowy, flabby remnants of baby fat clinging to my cheeks; it's hardened, angular and sunken. My cheekbones feel as if they've formed a valley between it and my jaw; a stiff, fetid mouth rests above my chin: lips coarse, tongue and throat dry.

A gentle, perfumed wind swayed the grass, and along with it, the strands of brilliant gold and platinum hair obscuring my vision.

_No – this definitely isn't me._

_What… is this?_

_I remember… Makomo. Then that masked man._

_How he carried me to his home, and wrapped me in a futon, before I blacked out again._

_Is… this a dream?_

_And something – someone – is pressed up against my arm._

With some effort - trying to ignore the dull pain in my neck - I roll my head over to the other side.

Lying in the grass and hugging my arm, snoozing so peacefully as if unfettered by everything and anything in the world, was…

A girl.

A raven-haired girl.

A sun-kissed, raven-haired girl.

A beautiful, sun-kissed, raven-haired girl.

Blood-curlingly alluring. Spine-chillingly gorgeous.

Delicate, attractive features. A captivating, royal air about her.

Long, shimmering black hair spread out over the ground; an undone white ribbon lying to the side.

And a vermillion haori acting to clothe her frame.

_Tsutako?_

_Is that… you?_

_Yes. No doubt about it._

…

_It seems… I do remember your face, after all._

_But…_

I couldn't help but quiver and smile slightly out of excitement at the realisation, for reason unbeknownst to me, and it seemed the miniscule movement was enough to wake her up.

She groaned a bit, and poised to sit up; slowly, and not entirely wakeful. I felt a bit guilty for disturbing her, but I didn't try to stop her, either.

"…Hmm..? It's noon already?" Her voice was musical, dulcet – exactly like what I imagined it to be. The grogginess did little to hide its beauty. Her tone was one of the many things I'd forgotten, yet, when faced with it once again, I wondered how I ever could. It was the lullaby of my childhood; a beautiful voice, befitting of an equally beautiful girl.

She opened her eyes, and I saw that they were azure – just like mine. It was a delightful colour, indeed, that seemed to have been plucked from the sky itself.

_But -_

_I still can't remember anything else._

_And these things only barely._

_Even if the face is there – even if I know what she looks like – I don't remember seeing it before. Sort of like __déjà vu, in a way. _

_And her voice – 'Lullaby of my childhood'? Sure, when hearing it, a wave of nostalgia came over me, but… only nostalgia. An emotion – just an emotion - associated with a time long gone, with memories. Yet, I don't have any of those. I only called it 'her' voice because I thought it fitting of her. Not because I knew it belonged._

_This… is my sister, isn't it?_

_That sister I spoke so highly of to Kanae, yet barely remember anything of. _

_My sister. _

_That woman._

_Who are you?_

_Who is __**she**__?_

_How... did it come to this even? _

_This red haori is proof I had a sister._

_A sister who I loved, and whom loved me back enough to sacrifice her life to protect me from a demon._

…

_Yet, I can't even bring myself to feel angry about forgetting, for it feels like I haven't lost anything at all._

…

_Perhaps I did remember, previously – proven by when I broke down in front of Shinobu. I wouldn't have done that unless I felt a deep anguish, such as in response to losing a loved one. _

_But, right now, I don't feel anything towards this girl called Tsutako Tomioka._

_... _

_Perhaps a younger me would admonish myself for thinking this way. _

_And that would be sensible._

_..._

_But then, If I hardly remember and feel anything towards her, what's this strange sensation?_

"Hmm? What's wrong?" she called out again, melodic voice now tinged with concern. Still stuck in thought, I don't reply her immediately.

_I feel… endeared to her._

_Not in the way a brother might adore his sister, or how a child may look up to their parent._

_Neither is it like a sense of camaraderie that bonds two friends._

_I feel affection._

"No – it's nothing. I'm fine." My voice is deep, and warm, and sounds familiar.

_Wait._

_What?_

_Huh?_

_The words – they came out on their own._

_It's like… I'm sharing this body with somebody else. Or rather, looking through their eyes?_

_And now him or her is speaking?_

_It seems I can move this body at will, but… can't control what I say?_

_If that's the case - then, who am I?_

_This entire scene is reminiscent of a memory. _

_The cutaway timeframe. The sense of nostalgia. The inheritance of another body._

_A memory – that isn't mine._

_Belonging to someone who knew my sister…_

…_whose memory, or memories, somehow ended up with me._

_Someone who was close to her._

_Perhaps I feel affection towards Tsutako because I'm experiencing the memories of someone who felt she was dear to him; but that still leaves the question of how I'm reliving this moment, unanswered._

I took the chance to examine her face a bit more. For a second, she looked just as she had then; beautiful, faraway sister - but the impression was fleeting.

In what way did she seem different? Were her eyes sharper, softer? Her lips less supple, her features more youthful? The wrinkles less prominent, the aura more relaxed? In some ways, she hadn't changed at all – but then again, I only had a single image in my head to go off of.

"Are you sure? You don't have to be out here if it hurts you. After all, you're a…" She trails off.

_A what?_

_No. Go on._

"No, really. I'm fine." I feel myself smile meekly, uncontrollably.

It seems whoever I am in this dream still retains some autonomy in movement, besides myself. Or, perhaps this person is merely re-enacting what he had done then, and I am bearing witness.

...I don't entirely understand, but I think it doesn't matter-

"Then, that makes me happy, too."

"Huh? Why?"

…

Tsutako pouts, as if a bit disappointed.

"Because we're going to get married, silly." She clutched my hand in hers, bringing it to her chest - so close, I could feel her heartbeat.

_Huh? Married?_

_Come to think of it…_

…

_She was due to get married the next day, when she was killed!_

_How could I forget?! _

_I remember there was a ceremony – some ceremony that was supposed to take place the following day. _

_I think that's why I was in her room that night; helping her prepare and rehearse, give advice on what to wear, etcetera._

_But, for every wedding, there must be a groom…_

"You're my dear fiancé, so I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." She grips tighter, her eyes narrow, and then –

She smiles.

So sweetly.

So damned sweetly.

An enamoured smile; a beaming smile.

The sight of which seemed to spur a flock of butterflies to rise up in my stomach.

_Did… she ever smile like that towards me?_

Afterwards, a pinkish blush warmed her cheeks, which she tried vainly to hide. Though the ears were hidden behind the messy curls of her hair, it was obvious they were as rosy as her face. The smile dimmed down, though clearly by force rather than a change in emotion, and she turned away.

"Ah – no. I'm… getting all flustered," she stammers. In response, I squeeze her hand, trying to reassuring her. This time, it's out of my own volition.

She jolted up, and at first, looked bashful and uncomfortable. Even though eventually, the hard line on her shoulders softened, the accumulated stiffness in the air – reminiscent of someone that still had something to say – did not.

"Hey… you'll be there tomorrow, right?"

…

"…Of course I will."

Her expression only clouded further.

"My aunt is returning from work in the city, in order to attend the wedding," she said, "you… know she is with Giyuu. I don't want to leave him alone with her."

_Wait – what? _

'_My aunt?'_

_Returning from work..?_

_Doesn't she mean my mother?_

_Her mother?_

_Our __mother?_

"I can't bring myself to tell him the truth – for his own sake. Perhaps he'll realise it in the future, and try to seek out our mother, but until then, I don't want him to get involved in that circle. She left us, that woman. Giyuu… needs nothing do to with the likes of her." She spat the last sentence – snarled it - her face contorting into a hateful, lopsided expression, if only for a second.

In retrospect, it was the first time I'd ever seen her like that, and would go on to profoundly change my impression of her – but, I was too taken up with the massive revelation that had just taken place.

_If what Tsutako said was true –_

_Then that bitch who called herself my mother, wasn't actually at all._

…

_In a way, I would be overjoyed._

_I was well aware that her poor treatment of me was in fact, abuse, and in this way, I found fault in her, instead of myself. As a result of this, it would comfort me greatly to discover that it was not, in fact, my own mother whom I had grown to hate. _

_But… that would bring up another question._

_Why – did she leave?_

"Is your mother going to be attending the wedding?"

"No. I haven't invited her yet, and I don't want to, either. Why… should I, even? That-"

"Tsutako," I whisper, cutting her off, moving my hands up to her shoulders; neither were out of my own volition, but I didn't try to stop it, either.

"Yes. I know. I… shouldn't say such things." Tsutako's arms wrap around my body, drawing herself closer, breath ticklish and hot enough to melt my neck as she nuzzled her head in my shoulder.

We stayed like that, for a while, just lying in the grass, her and I basking under the sun, embracing. I don't know if it was the heat, or anxiousness, but something had me sweating profusely. My sister's body is pressed up against mine. Her chest… is soft. Why is her chest soft? And her hair… smells like roses. Wait – why am I paying attention to these things? This is bad. It feels nice just to hug her; but that's my sister, and this is an embrace of intimacy, not a show of affection between siblings. I shouldn't be here. It all feels so bewildering, so wrong, and uncalled for…

"I'm only going back home to prepare for the wedding. We'll see each other again tomorrow. I'm sure your mother – no, _aunt_ \- won't try anything in public, and I'll make sure to keep around Giyuu as much as possible."

...

... ...

... ... ...

"You promise?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Then you promised!"

And once again, she breaks out into a smile.

"Hey. You wanna do that again?"

"Hmm?"

…

"…Don't make me say it. That… 'kissing' thing."

_What?_

_By 'kissing' she means…_

_No._

_For the love of god, no. _

_I understand enough about these types of things to know what that is._

_So, no!_

My head nods in assent, but my body is tearing itself apart from the inside.

_No!_

_Even if Tsutako doesn't feel like my sister right now -_

_Anything but that!_

She draws closer. Close enough that I can feel her breath on my face. It's warm, humid – unbearably so. I can feel myself being driven mad.

_For the love of the lord!_

_Please!_

And then, just before our lips touched –

I was pulled out.

Quite literally yanked from my body.

Grabbed by the collar and flung in the air, landing face-first into the ground.

"That's enough for now, I think." A man's voice sounded itself, managing to sound perfectly clear despite the ringing in my ears.

_A man. Another person._

_Someone else is here?_

I tried awkwardly to get to my feet, starting the wrong way once before finally managing to stand upright. I took note of my height and body – they had returned to the proportions of a normal, twelve-year old self. A red haori was draped around my body, and the hairs straggling my eyes were now black.

One hand in front of my face, I squinted through my fingers, and was shocked to see that the grassy landscape had been replaced with the interior of a cabin.

I felt a hand take hold of my shoulder – immediately swiping it away, not for any reason, more so by instinct, and pure paranoia.

I was thinking something along the lines of: _'Someone's here in the dream with me. Who is it? Where am I? What's happening? I'm confused.' _and I'm not sure what I meant by that. I was so anxious, and confused, and bewildered. Nothing seemed right, nor made any sense-

"What, you want to see? Is that why you're angry? 'Cus I took you out?"

"…"

"Alright, I get it. I'm sorry for tossing you out of there. But I was in time, at least, yes? As her brother, I didn't think you wanted to see such a thing, let alone…_ do it_. But - you could at least apologise for swatting my hand like that."

"…What. What? Huh?"

"Hmm? Oh, I guess you're still confused about all this. Well, everything'll be explained in due time. But first things first… err… how are you holding up, Giyuu?"

The pain on my face had mellowed down, but I was still pretty annoyed about being thrown around like that. I let it go, however, as the desire to answer my questions was stronger than the one to get back at something so petty.

Yet, it would prove futile.

For the second I caught sight of this man…

A looming, muscular frame –

Broad, powerful chest –

And unkempt, blonde-unto-platinum hair.

…A searing hatred took grip of me, driving whatever rationality I had left into the ground.

_Douma..!_

Without thinking, I charged at him, shouting and crying out as if to bolster my ferocity, arms pulled to my chest, ready to attack.

But then, in a motion unparalleled in speed and efficiency in anything I had seen until that point, he gripped my arm, and smashed me into the wooden planks of the ground.

It happened in an instant – the only indications of it happening being the fearful sensation of flying through the air, and then the splitting and cracking of wood afterwards. I didn't feel any pain, though – perhaps it was because I was in a dream, or maybe I was too taken aback with what I had just seen, and _experienced._

"Don't mistake me for him. Look up. Do you see it?"

Somewhat skeptical and still very much pissed, my eyes trailed up his arms, then his hands, and arrived where they were pointing.

At his eyes.

Not rainbow-hued, like the brilliance of a diamond.

But shimmering, emerald-green eyes.

"Don't you remember who I am, Giyuu? Or has he taken your memories of me, too?"

'…_has he taken your memories of me, too?'_

_Taken… my… memories?_

_Does he mean Douma?_

_Then…_

_Then that means… _

_No, if what he says is true –_

_My memories of Tsutako…_

"Yes. That's precisely what it is, Giyuu," the man affirmed, seemingly reading my thoughts, "unfortunately, it seems we don't have much time left. I can only see you in your dreams - but - the sun is starting to rise, and soon, with it, you'll wake up."

"Huh? Wait – no! I still have so many questions!"

"And I have many answers. We'll meet again the next time you fall asleep, but… I don't foresee that happening soon. You've happened to come under the care - and probable tutelage - of a very strict man. I trust him with everything until further notice, so, until then, keep well, and try not to be too hard on him, alright?"

"Gah – no!"

"Goodbye, Giyuu."

Things began to blur into one another, and with it, an overpowering, blinding white light gradually came over me. I was shouting something, probably along the lines of 'no!' and 'stay!' and 'explain!', but with time, they devolved more and more into inarticulate screams and cries, and at some point, I could no longer hear myself speak, and things slid into a blurry, incomprehensible white haze.

* * *

"Hmm, hmm – is this a love letter?"

A certain burgundy-haired boy was now awake, and had perched himself above Giyuu's shoulder, scanning the letter in his hand.

"Huh – Tanjiro? You're awake? Giyuu sputters, hastily folding the paper.

"Well, yeah, for a while now. Don't you remember? We were even talking – you were telling me something about cauterizing wounds. I asked you about that paper in your hand, and then, you just spaced out."

"Oh…"

_It must be the blood._

_Haven't I stopped the flow yet?_

_No. I have._

_Then… I must've gotten lost in my thoughts again._

...

An awkward silence ensues.

... ...

One that they both feel should be broken, but can't find the words to do so.

... ... ...

"Did you read it?

"…Yeah. Sorry."

For a second, a stark annoyance took over him. If it was anyone else, Giyuu may very well have snapped immediately - but - this was Tanjiro, and his intentions couldn't have been anything but good - or rather, _not sinister, _if he was being more frank. With this in mind, Giyuu let it go, and begun contemplating what to do next.

_I'm sure Shinobu wouldn't mind if I let him read._

_And I'll just tell him to stop whenever something comes up that's meant to be kept private – between Shinobu, and I._

_I know her. She wouldn't be bothered if that was the arrangement._

"Then… I guess there is no choice for you but to continue the story."

"Wh-what? No, but, I feel like I've pried enough already! I've always h-had a feeling about you and Shinobu, but…" Tanjiro sputters the words hurriedly, without any pause between them, simultaneously waving his hands around in emotion, almost exaggeratedly so. If there was one thing Giyuu learned about Tanjiro in the time they spent together, it's that he is easily flustered.

_He's so innocent. Perhaps too much._

_Exactly how I was back then._

"You've been caught red-handed. Don't try to back out now. A man has to finish what he's started." Giyuu senses the corners of his lips tug into a smirk.

For some reason, it feels as if he's heard that same phrase before, from someone, somewhere, sometime, and under similar circumstances as Tanjiro was in now.

_Mentor and mentee._

_Older brother and younger brother._

It felt good to pass on something so profound-sounding to the younger generation. The current situation was bad – fellow swordsmen being picked out left and right, a few pillars having already fallen…

…Shinobu being among them.

But – when faced with Tanjiro's childlike innocence and pure, infallible character, Giyuu's heart couldn't help but be warmed a little.

"Err… Giyuu?"

"-Huh?" Snapping back to reality, Giyuu looks up at Tanjiro, whose expression now bore a frown.

"You're out of it again. I'm starting to worry, you know."

"…You shouldn't, Tanjiro. Come. You've read up to this point, right?" Giyuu points to the paper. "We'll read the rest together. I'll give some commentary from my side of the story, too. I've… always wanted to tell someone, anyway."

_Yes._

_I've always wanted -_

_I've always wanted to confide in somebody._

_To share that long, winding, painful journey._

_Even if now may not be the appropriate time._

_Because, maybe…_

_Maybe I won't get a chance like this again._

"…You sure I can?"

"Sure."

…

"Then, thanks!"

And once again, Tanjiro beams into a smile.

_That smile…_

_It's the same one Tsutako had._

_That ear-spanning, joyful, impossibly beautiful grin._

_And the line that always went with it:_

'_You're a fool, sometimes, Giyuu. But a lovable, adorable fool, who happens to be my dear younger brother.'_

…

_Tch. I'm getting nostalgic again._

_I shouldn't – not now, at least._

_There are more important things to I need to do, and worry about at the moment._

"…But first, I need to tell you how I met our teacher, Urokodaki-sensei. It's important to the story. Sit over there."

…

_He's not budging._

"…What's wrong?"

"Sorry… I can't really move right now. My legs are numb."

_-Oh. _

_Yeah, that's right._

_It was foolish of me to not consider his injuries, too._

_Truly foolish…_

…

'_You're a fool, sometimes, Giyuu-'_

_No. Be quiet._

_Not now. Not again._

…

_It seems… remembering __**that **__**man**__ has caused the demons to creep up on me again._

_But, please, just for now – just so I can tell him everything – can't you leave me alone?_

"Then… it's fine if you just sit up where you are."

And so, lit by moonlight and the crimson glow of a fire, a melancholic Giyuu and ecstatic Tanjiro pent themselves up adjacent to each other, a mutual silence ensuing, not quite like the previous, for both felt it less awkward and perceived it as necessary, before being broken by the utterance of a single, unremarkable phrase, that would mark the start of a monumental, heart-wrenching tale:

"On that day…"

* * *

**A/N**

**First of all, sorry if this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. It just felt right to end it there. **

**Secondly -**

**Haha... I hope that you understand everything so far. Next chapter will contain explanations for everything, and it i_sn't far off, I promise _\- so don't be deterred yet. **

**In case it's confusing, this whole flashback/dream of Giyuu was a continuation of his daydreaming in chapter 6. The transition back to the present day (after the line: "...things slid into a blurry, incomprehensible white haze.") was just Giyuu snapping back to reality, and the present. **

** It's a funny order of things, I know, especially with chapter 7 (that being a continuation of Shinobu's letter) thrown in the middle. But bear with me - I have profound plans for the future, that will give reasons for all of this. **

**With that said, until next time. Peace! **

* * *

**Bonus: Character ages and dates! For interest's sake.**

The Taishō Era was from 1912 - 1926.

\- Current year this fanfiction is taking place in: 1912.

Giyuu is 12. Born 8 February 1900.

Shinobu is 9. Born 24 February 1903.

Kanae is 12 turning 13. Born 6 March 1899.

Tsutako is (was?) 20 turning 21. Born 20 April 1891.

Douma is 155 turning 156. Born 9 July 1756.

\- Current year the story of KNY is taking place in: 1921/22. (Giyuu is listed as 21 years old, according to the databook. Add 21 to his birth year of 1900 and we get 1921. But if we factor the few months the Hashira Training Arc took place over, it could be 1922.)


	9. Woes of the Elderly and Bitter

**Giyuu's POV**

"…Finally."

There I was, panting like an animal, drenched in my own sweat, heart pounding against my ears like a drum, body unbearably feverish and hot, my senses having been overwhelmed by the searing in my throat and eyes.

Giyuu Tomioka was now up - but it was a rude, unsavoury awakening, that would come to prove only the start of his troubles that day.

But first, a monologue.

_What… was that?!_

_Tsutako… and my aunt, no, mother…_

_That woman…_

_I'm… so confused._

_And that man…_

_Who is he?_

_He looked exactly like Douma, but his eyes were green, not rainbow-hued. A beautiful, unforgettable green._

_He said he'll appear again next time I fall asleep – in my dreams._

_No… I must be going mad. _

_Probably didn't get enough sleep._

_I've… been exhausted these past few days, after all._

…

_That's right!_

_I passed out while fetching help for them!_

_Shit!_

_It's already been a few hours since then._

_No – maybe more..!_

_How long have I been asleep?!_

"Those girls! What happened to them?!"

"Hmm..? What are you-"

"The Kochou girls! The rich people living in a big house with flowers surrounding it! They were attacked by…"

_Should I… say it?_

_No – of course I-_

"Huh? Oh, that. They're fine – but only them. Both the parents are dead, I heard. And… you? Why are you asking me such a thing? Does it have something to do with… no, nevermind. You're awake now, that's what matters."

_Hah… thank god._

_At least they're safe._

I let out a sigh of relief, and the hard line on my shoulders softened.

_Wait, on that note… where am I?_

Observing my surroundings, I saw that I was enveloped in a futon, inside a log cabin of sorts. The one thing that sprung out to me immediately was its condition; decrepit, dusty, effectively crumbling at the seams. The wood it was built out of was old, russet and gave off a sour, damp odour, akin to a soggy mop. Moldy spots sticking to the walls outnumbered the furnishings occupying the room – the most notable of which being a bubbling, rusty, cauldron-like object in the centre, that a sickening smell emanated from.

"What? So you're wrinkling your nose, now?"

The voice was grouchy and sore, and I inferred it belonged to the man who called this shack home. My trembling hands having now stabilised, and the pounding in my head waned somewhat, I looked to the side, in the direction the voice came from.

I saw… a masked figure. A red-masked figure. Someone… wearing a red mask.

_Huh..? What?_

Indeed, there was a man donning a crimson tengu mask. He was clothed in a sky-blue jinbei kimono, black hakama, and a brown pair of moccasins, which were tucked into his trousers using white straps. The skin the mask failed to cover was wrinkled, and his hair was a dull silver with streaks of black. I inferred that he was an elderly man – but one that, surprisingly, retained a relatively well-built and firm figure.

"Eat."

He shoved a tray into my hands; on it, a bowl containing a thick, slimy gruel, that had the type of watery, gelatin appearance which told a person exactly how it tasted just by looking at it.

"Huh? Who are-" I stammered, but was cut off.

"I'll explain everything while you're having breakfast. For now, _eat_."

Perhaps it was the fiery expression his mask bore, or the frightening musculature he displayed at such a late age, but I found something about his words irrefutable, and his presence intimidating. So, I ate.

The food tasted terrible - or rather, I should say, it tasted like nothing, but had the texture of starchy jelly. But - I was absolutely starving like a dog, and such things didn't really concern me at that point.

"I found you unconscious at the base of a mountain, near my house. You were soaking wet, cold as stone, and in honesty, simply looked dead," he started, "but, you were not. So, I brought you back here, bathed you, and set you into bed."

_Huh..?_

_Bathed… me?_

I felt my cheeks go red.

"What's the matter with you? We're both men. I wasn't going to let you sleep like that…"

He paused for a moment, hesitated.

"I washed that red haori – it was soaked with blood." The atmosphere had changed – his tone was now dead serious. "Do you want to tell me what happened? It's something to do with those girls, isn't it?"

…

_He's sharp._

_Damn it._

"I was just… asking. I heard about it somewhere, and I was…. worried about them."

"Hmm..? Is that so? Alright, then. But that doesn't explain the blood on your haori."

"I… was bleeding. Bleeding because I-"

"No, you weren't. Do not lie."

…

_Shit._

_He saw me in the nude, after all. I can't tell him a lie like that._

… …

_I… don't have the faintest clue what to answer. _

_Maybe I'll just stay silent._

… … …

"Fine then. If you don't _want_ to say anything, follow me." His tone wasn't that of one who had given up. It sent a shiver down my spine.

"Huh? Where-"

"_Come_," he rebuked, almost growling.

Admitting silent defeat, I hauled my body out of the futon and stood upright. My legs were still wobbly, a biting chill coursing through their bones – rendering them glass-like, as if they could shatter any moment under my heaving chest and burning arms.

He led me outside, and up some path that scaled a nearby hill. I had considered the option earlier - but - it seemed he really did live on a mountain, after all. I, however, was too stuck in my own toil to notice.

The route was grueling – utmostly, extremely grueling – much like the one I trialed with Kanae and Shinobu that this time, I had the added benefit of feeling nigh like a cripple. It was extraordinarily cold outside, too, owing to the fact it was mid-February, and I was wearing little in the way of clothing, save for the jinbei kimono from the night before.

After a long, taxing while of climbing, we came upon the summit of the hill. And, just beyond it, was…

A graveyard.

A sprawling, cleanly, sanctuous graveyard, situated in a clearing in the forest. Rows of marble and granite tombstones lining rolling hills, each with their own bouquet of flowers resting at their base. And they were fresh, too – all rich and vivid in colour, as if they'd only been plucked hours before. A soft wind blew, crooning in my ear, and wafting the flowers' scents in the air; sweet, fresh, a little bit sour.

_Why… did he bring me here?_

"Forty-seven."

...

"That's how many pupils I've trained throughout my life. That's how many pupils I've lost. And that's… how many graves are here." His voice was now softer, heavier.

_You're… a teacher of sorts?_

_So that's your occupation. _

"Forty-seven graves… and each one of them is empty. Do you know why?"

…

_Maybe because the disciple's families buried them somewhere else?_

_I don't want to say this…_

_But they're not obligated to rest with you, just because you're their teacher._

_What do you teach anyway?_

_Either it must be something very dangerous, or it's a huge coincidence that all your disciples are dead._

"Because they were buried somewhere else?" I replied, flatly. I thought it was the most logical answer, and the least likely to potentially offend him.

"No. It's because I never got the bodies back."

…

_Strange. This man is strange._

"…Why is that?"

…

"I… am a demon slayer. Or rather, a cultivator of demon slayers. Every disciple I've had was either an orphan, or an outcast, or a mix of both – never neither. Taking them in, I would present them with a choice: to become a demon slayer, or not. Of course, if they denied, and left, I wouldn't leave them empty-handed. But that's besides the point," he explained, gazing forward, unmoving, "all the pupils I have trained in my life… are dead – killed by demons. _Eaten… _by demons. They are absurdly powerful, and malevolent beings. Although, you should know that, even without me telling you."

_What?_

_He… knows that I was attacked by a demon?_

_About Douma?_

"Don't be so surprised. The blood on your haori… you suddenly inquiring about those girls… how I found you passed out at the base of a mountain, clearly in distraught, and running from, or for, something. Group all the aspects, link them together, and it points to one thing; an attack by a demon. Either you were with the Kochou girls, or were attacked by a separate demon. Of course, such evidence on its own isn't enough. I _smelled_ it on you, too. The scent… of a demon."

_He smelled it?_

_Smelled that I was attack by a demon?_

…

_Is… he lying?_

_Joking?_

_But –_

_If this is a serious situation, then why?_

_Is he trying to lift the mood?_

_No. His tone hasn't lightened at all. The tenseness in the air hasn't faded._

"Do not be so narrow-minded as to think humans cannot surpass demons in some ways. I, for one, was born with a heightened sense of smell. When exposed to the scent of something, I will never forget it – a demon's is no exception."

He turned to face me.

"That's… why I'm angry right now," his tone had suddenly risen, and his voice seethed with fury, "angry because you still intend to keep your mouth shut. Angry because the forty-seven pupils I have trained in my life died fighting something which you continue to deny..! Angry, because you still doubt what you saw with your very own eyes!"

He strolled forward, and in the next moment, his hand cracked across my face, sending me reeling to the side with the force, not quite falling, but not quite standing well upright either. I clutched my face, eyes watering, cheek stinging. The sound of the impact rung in my ears like how a metal canister echoes when knocked, but I was given no time to rest.

"Stand up straight!" he ordered, gripping my shoulders and pulling me up, ambushing me with the oppressive gaze of the painted white eyes on his mask.

"I'm… sorry," I muttered, unable to look at him, but unable to fully look away, either.

"You're sorry? You're not even going to fight against me? Try to defend your point, _yourself? _Just going to accept that you're wrong, and I'm right?! What man, in this entire damned world, thinks the way you do?! Don't be sorry, be _better. _A man takes responsibility for his actions."

"…"

We remained like that, for a while, just him and I, locked in an uneasy gaze, despite our eyes never meeting. I felt guilty to the core, not because I thought I offended him, but because of what he had said to me – 'What man, in this entire damned world, thinks the way you do?' His words resonated with me, and struck a note in my heart that shrouded me in regret. After some time, his grip loosened, and along with it, the heavy atmosphere dissipated, if only a bit.

"So, who was it?" His tone had mellowed out, now even sounding somewhat… considerate.

"…What do you mean?"

"Ignore what I said earlier, about me mentioning you being with the Kochou girls as a possibility. The blood on that haori was already a few days old. And… it had the scent of death about it. So, who was it? Who… did you lose?"

_Ah…_

_So, he knows._

_Not everything – _

_But just enough that it has become unavoidable. _

"…My sister."

"I see. Have you given her a burial yet?"

…

_It never came to my mind. _

_But – demons hunt people in order to eat them, do they not?_

_They don't leave a body to speak of._

_But, I think he means if I have 'honoured' her death yet._

"No. Not yet."

"Well, you have the chance now, don't you?"

_Huh? What is he saying?_

"What… do you mean?"

He begun to walk in the direction from whence we came, beckoning me to follow.

"Let's go back to the house. We'll create a shrine for her."

_Call me nitpicking, but…_

_He's acting like I have no-where else to go. Or rather, I should say, he's under that impression._

_I'm… staying by Mr __Açores right now. _

_I'd rather make the shrine there, than here._

_Come to think of it, I need to get back soon. _

_It was stupid of me to just leave like that yesterday, only leaving a note. _

_He must be real angry._

"…I'm staying somewhere already. I'll…"

"You'll do it there? You shouldn't be shy to tell me. In that case… where are you staying?"

_Why does he want to know?_

"By a man named Mr Açores."

He stopped dead in his tracks – so suddenly, I barely stopped myself from walking into him.

"Mr… Açores? Are you sure?"

_What does he mean, am I sure?_

"That's his name, yeah."

"Does he… happen to run a school? Or anything reminescent of one?"

_?!_

_This man… he's spot on. _

_But I shouldn't be so surprised. Matsuyama, and the area where I live as a whole, is a small place. Anyone can know anyone._

"Yes… he does. Do you know him?"

"Boy, how is it that you know the name… of a dead man?"

_Dead? _

_No. He's mistaken._

_Mr Açores is alive and well._

"Dead? But he's alive. I saw him just a few days ago."

"If beings which we perceive as mythical - such as demons - exist, then it is entirely plausible that things like spirits and ghosts can, too," he explained, "I knew Mr Açores. He was a dear friend of mine – but he died two years ago from Pneumonia. I was at his side when he passed, and was there to witness him being buried. So, I know for a fact that he is dead. If you need proof, here."

He produced a locket from under his collar, fashioned out of brass and stamped on it, an image of a shield.

_Come to think of it… I recognise that locket._

_It's the same one Mr Açores wore._

_I didn't take much note of it when I first met him, but I remember he used to finger it quite often, whenever in contemplation and thought. _

_Then, that means…_

"That look on your face says it all – you recognise this, too, right? I assume by what you meant by saying you had a place to stay was the school. Indeed, when alive, he was a principal. For his soul to return the school, even after death, means he is restless for some reason or another. But, that is outside the scope of this conversation."

…_I have no place to stay._

"So, what will you do now?"

"I… don't know."

…

"Let's walk back. You can decide on the way."

He tucked the locket back under the collar of his kimono, and continued walking.

All of a sudden, the trail didn't seem that taxing anymore. All of a sudden, the air didn't seem so cold. My body didn't heave, head didn't pound. Time felt as if it had frozen, and even though I knew full well where we were going, the walking didn't seem to be taking us anywhere. My feet just trudged along on their own. The only thing I felt… was a sickening, maddening guilt.

At some point, without me quite noticing, we arrived back at the shack. I was ushered inside, and told to sit down.

"So, have you decided?" He asked, rummaging aimlessly in a cupboard.

_I haven't given it any thought yet._

_Or rather, I don't know what to do._

"…I'm not sure." I replied.

…

"How about… becoming a demon slayer?" His tone sounded forced, as if he didn't quite like the idea he'd just proposed. "You want to avenge your sister, don't you?"

_Do… I?_

_I guess that would be sensible._

_But…_

_But what?_

_Why am I so reluctant?_

_Douma._

_That man._

_That demon. _

_I… don't feel anything against him._

_No. _

_What's wrong with me?_

_He killed Tsutako._

_Snapped her neck._

_Ripped her apart._

_Gorged on her._

_My sister – Tsutako._

_My… sister._

_Sister..?_

_I… had a sister. I know that._

_But… it doesn't feel like it at all._

_The memory loss is to the extent where I've forgotten almost everything about her._

_I only remember her face, her voice, and the immediate moments surrounding her death._

_Nothing else._

_Of course, memories that don't include her are still intact. But there really aren't many of those._

_Truly… not much at all._

…

_Was I… around her that often? _

_Did I spend so much time with her?_

_Did I… love my sister so much?_

_Those impassioned times. Those beautiful times. Those joyful times._

_All locked away in those memories._

_My… memories. _

'_Don't you remember who I am, Giyuu? Or has he taken your memories of me, too?'_

_If what the man in my dreams said is true, then Douma took my memories. _

_Douma…_

_That man. _

_That demon._

_That… asinine piece of shit._

_He stole them._

_Do I want them back?_

_Of course I do. _

_But you know what? _

_That's not even it._

_I want… to murder that man._

_That __**thing.**_

_To take up on its challenge. To beat it at its own damned game._

_Because it had the fucking nerve to cross me._

…

_What has gotten into me, I wonder?_

_I've never felt like this before in my life._

_This adrenaline. This rush._

_This anger._

"Hey."

_My heart feels like its stopped beating._

_I'm not breathing anymore. I don't need to breathe._

"Hey..!"

_My body is burning up._

_The blood inside my veins is beginning to curdle._

_And my mouth… is drooling._

_I'm looking at the man._

_Gazing intensely._

"Hey!"

He surged forward, gripping my frame with intent, shaking me firmly, as if trying to pull me from my trance.

"Then that leaves me no choice. I'm sorry, Giyuu. We'll talk again, later."

_This man… how does he know my name?_

He lifted his arm into the air, flattening his hand into a slate in an action so deliberate, it appeared slow-motion. I felt my eyes trail him involuntarily; watch him with malevolent intent, as the rage inside my body began to wrest it away from my control.

And then, he struck.

* * *

_Someone is singing._

_It's close; I can't quite make out the words, but it has the melody of a lullaby._

Once again, I found myself in a quaint wooden cabin, only I recognised this one as the one I had saw in my last dream. Dazed, I hastily gathered myself and stood up from the floor. It seemed, this time, I was in my own body from the start.

The interior of the cabin had nothing of note; a futon in the corner, table in the middle, and stove propped up against the wall. What I will say, however, is that it was much cleaner than that man's shack, though upon closer deliberation, I saw that it was because it was devoid of anything other than the furnishings mentioned, rather than being well-kept.

_In the end, he knocked me out._

_I don't know how, and why, but it felt like I lost control of my body for a second._

_As if… something was possessing me. _

_But – I don't want to give it any further thought. _

_I'm exhausted. I'll bide my time in this dream. _

_I am guessing even though I'm conscious during sleep, when I wake up, I'll still feel rested._

_For now… what's that singing?_

It seemed to be coming from the patio. I strolled over to the _washi _shutter dividing us, slotted my hand in the grip, and pulled it open;

"Sweet, sweet little girl,

from the sleepy town,

why are your eyes so blue?

When I was small,

I spent all day staring into the sky,

and that's why my eyes are so blue…

Poor, poor sightless boy,

from the tall mountain,

why is your hair so blond?

When I was small,

I spent all day eating sunflowers,

and that's why my hair is so blond…"

_It's… him._

_The one who looks like Douma._

Indeed – there he was, lounging back on the porch, legs dangling off the edge, body half-basked in sunlight, singing to his heart's content.

"You know the song?" Without turning around, he took note of my presence.

I couldn't find it in myself to answer him. I had too many questions, and little incentive for conversation.

"…So, you don't. Sit down, and I'll-"

"Who are you?"

I cut him off – and in response, he finally turned around to acknowledge me.

"You really don't know?" His tone was almost rhetorical, and exaggeratedly disbelieving.

I continued to stand in silence, watching him intently, until my gaze faltered for just a second, and I found myself unable to look back at him. The atmosphere was not hostile, but its weight still felt crushing.

"I am your sister's fiancé. I was the one who put you through that memory, from my point of view. You remember?"

_So that's what it was._

_Going off what this man said in my last dream, Douma took my memories of him, too. _

"I don't mean that. Who **are **you? What's your relation to Douma? If you _are_ Tsutako's fiancé, why are you appearing in my dreams? You're supposed to be alive-"

"Shh… Everything will be explained. You have plenty of questions… we have plenty of time. For a start, well…

…I'm your sister's fiancé, as well as Douma's brother."

* * *

**Shinobu's POV**

_"Tell me, Shinobu, do you want to become a demon slayer?"_

His voice was gentle, beckoning; expression beatific, aura kind. The man standing before me had an appearance likened to that of a porcelain doll, with snow-white skin and refined, utmostly delicate features. His white-unto-lavender kimono flapped in the air, revealing a delicate frame that always seemed to be on the verge of blowing away with the wind. Clean-cut black hair hung over a beautiful appearance, tinged only by the slight patch of purple on his forehead.

And yet, I could only help but kneel. This man - who looked as if he could barely stand on his own two feet – commanded a powerful presence that was wildly unbefitting of someone so forlorn in image, driving me to my knees.

Facing towards the ground, my body hunched over, I traced my way back through the events of the day, wondering, just how it had come to this point…

* * *

_There is the smell of incense, soft yet distinct. My eyelids feel weighted shut, light glowing through them in a reddish-yellow hue that feels familiar, and somehow reminiscent of home._

_I'm enveloped in something smooth and velvety-soft. The ground below me is firm, yet compressive to the touch. My body feels distant, almost as if it isn't there. It's not really an unpleasant sensation, but it's strange and foreign and I'm not sure I like it either._

_My ears clear up.__ I can hear birds chirp and the rhythmic splash of a S__ō__zu - it__'__s near. A garden must be near. _

_The air is cool, and feels light against my face. A gust of wind blows - but it's calm, gentle. Ticklish even. _

_I feel lightheaded and hazy. My memories are all jumbled – what happened before this?_

_Kanae. My sister. Her streaming tears, and the way she clutched me before I fell. I remember that much, nothing more._

_Where is she?_

_Where… am I?_

…

_I can't think of anything._

_Should probably get up now._

I opened my eyes sluggishly – the last vestiges of sleep still tugging at them - and was embraced by a soft, ethereal white light, that despite being so severely bright, did not sting in the slightest. I was blinded temporarily, but my vision quickly cleared up.

Lying face up, the first thing I saw was the ceiling; plain wooden planks supported by beams. Despite being seemingly ambiguous, it was a tell-tale sign that this wasn't my house, which had painted white ceilings. I remembered that much, at least.

Without moving my head, I observed my surroundings; an IV drip supporting a bag of blood hovered over me, attached to my arm via a wire. I was in a sort of bed, elevated off the ground. The light seemed to be shining in from my right.

"Shinobu? Shinobu!"

The voice comes from outside my vision, and in the next instant, I'm swept up in an ardent embrace that lifts me a few ways up from the bed, so tight I could feel the air being squeezed out my lungs.

_Kanae._

She burrowed her head into my chest, crying. Her hands - having found their way around my waist, now clutching the back of my shirt - quivered ever so slightly. Kanae had a dishevelled appearance; her hair was frazzled, having lost the beautiful sheen it normally displayed, and a ragged kimono draped a body that had now become noticeably thinner.

She looked up at me, and I felt my heart turn to lead when I saw her sunken cheeks and dark eyebags. She was definitely crying, I remember – yet, there were no tears.

"I thought I'd lost you too..!"

_Huh?_

_Lost me too?_

…

…_Oh._

The heart-breaking realisation came down on me, as memories of that night flooded through my head.

…

_They're dead._

_But what does she mean 'you too'?_

"Do you feel pain anywhere? Your legs, arms, head… stomach?" Her tone was frantic, desperate even.

"…Not really."

Come to think of it, there was a dull, lingering ache somewhere around my abdomen, that I hadn't noticed until Kanae pointed it out. It's like when you wake up in bed – you don't feel any sensation just yet. But when you've climbed out, whatever was supposed to hit you… hits you. Nausea, cramping, a headache, etcetera.

I brushed it off as something that would come to pass, however.

Kanae. That look in her eyes told me she had something to say. It wasn't a gleam or sparkle, more so a… hollowness. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact it was always accompanied by a few minutes of staring into a vacant distance, as well as the ensuing silence. Kanae was always a talkative girl, so for her to be quiet – especially like _this _– was always cause for worry.

"Father and mother, they're… dead."

_Mother…_

_Her… too?_

Yes.

If I was being honest, completely honest…

I had expected it.

My mother she said she would be working late that night.

But, with all that commotion, she didn't come rushing into the room –

Didn't scream or shout, whether out of panic or fear for us –

And neither did my father make any mention of her. Although, I guess this could've been attributed to the urgency of the situation.

But, still.

…

_It… looks like I'm going to cry too._

"The demon… got away. He wounded that man who came to help us, and then…"

Kanae gulped.

"Shinobu… are you sure you're fine? That demon… shot something from his fingers, and it hit you in the stomach. You fell unconscious, and…

…you've been asleep since then – for a whole month."

* * *

**Ending off both sections of the chapter with cliffhanger dialogues. Life is good. Next chapter, all your questions will be answered - I say that a lot, though, but this time I mean it. **

**Chapter 10 is going to be the end of the prologue. By that, I mean we'll advance a few years into the future, although not up to the point of the KNY story. Everyone's gonna be bigger - shii is gonna be juicier. For those who wanted to get an in-depth look at Giyuu's training regimen with Urokodaki, and his relationship with Sabito, I'm sorry. There isn't going to be much of that.**

**On another note, Tsutako and her ****fiancé will play a big part in the story. This whole mess of 'losing memories' will bear fruit, so stick around - follow this story! It's all I ask.**


	10. Fates Sealed, Sentiments Bid

**Shinobu's POV**

"Hey, you! Yeah, you!" A boyish voice called out to us from the other side of the room, clearly agitated.

I perked my head up in the direction it came from. A stout young man, dressed in a black-embroidered-with-white uniform, a face mask scrunched around his neck – in conclusion, having a generally unremarkable appearance – was stamping towards us, arms poised stiff in an upside down 'L' shape, looking akin to an angry gremlin.

"Foolishness. Foolishness..! Foolishness! Foolish girl!" he muttered, tone flaring more and more with each increment, "firstly, you don't eat! Secondly, you don't drink! Thirdly, you don't sleep! Fourthly… that Castella was expense! Hella expensive! It came all the way from Na-ga-sa-**ki**! And you just leave it _there_! Fifthly – _she's_ _injured!_ And here you are; _grabbing her,_ _latching onto her, _**_hugging _**_her! _What if she starts bleeding again!? You'll trouble _Tsubone-sama_!" I had no idea why he added the fourth point, but I guessed that this 'Castella' thing was somehow important to him. And who was this 'Tsubone-sama'?

He leapt towards us, and in a striking move, restrained Kanae up from her arms and attempted to pull her away from me. A match of intense resistance ensued; Kanae, despite looking like someone achingly close to death, latched on to me with an impossibly powerful grip, which would've surprised me, really, if not for the pain it caused.

"Goto!" This time, it's a feminine voice that shakes the room. "Stop that–"

She froze when she saw me.

"You're… awake? You're awake? Awake!? Goto! You dumbass!"

The woman jumped over, and in the second striking move of the day, conked 'Goto' over the head with such a force that it shook the metal frame of the bed. For a second, I thought I saw his soul depart his body, wave at me, and disappear into the ceiling.

"You're supposed to tell me if she's awake! Not do… _that_!"

"What're the italics for?! This ain't a novel or something!" he rebuked, tears forming in his eyes from the pain, "and what's to say that I should tell _you?! _You ain't the boss! Hell, you got a demotion last week for being caught smoking on the job!"

"Dumbass!" she said, swiping at him again. This time, he folded inwards and crumpled to the ground, relinquishing his grip barely in time as to not take us down with him. Back then, I thought it was pretty unjustified, but I was too taken aback to say anything.

…An awkward silence ensued.

"You're alright?" she asked, nonchalant.

"…Me?" I said.

"Who else?"

…

"…I guess so."

_Is she this 'Tsubone-sama'?_

"Sooo… has your sister told you everything? You look like you've heard quite the news…"

_Does this woman hate her job?_

_Well –_

_I know I was 'shot' in the stomach, and that the demon got away – I think that about covers it._

_But…_

"Yeah – but… where are we?"

"At the Demon Slayer Headquarters. Or, more specifically, the medical faculty on its outskirts."

'_Demon Slayer Headquarters'? _

'_Demon… Slayer'?_

"'Demon Slayer'? People who… kill demons?" I asked.

"Yeah. Isn't it like… pretty self-explana-"

"Demon Slayers?!" Kanae butted in.

"Yeah..? What's it to you?"

For a while, we just stared at her.

"Umm… in any case, now that you're awake, I think _he _wants to meet you," she sputtered, "ignore what Goto said earlier. Your wound's healed already. He's just delusional… or drunk… or both."

"'_He'_?"

"Our leader."

_Lea…der? _

"Uh… he's in the courtyard right now, I think. If you can't walk… I'll carry you, or something. But first, we need to get this IV drip out of you."

_It looks like I don't have a choice in the matter._

_Ah, well._

The woman approached my side and placed her hand on my arm, as if to reassure me, before swiftly pulling the needle out of my arm. A searing pain shot through me, though only for a second.

"Try to stand up."

I swiveled my legs around from the base of the bed, and stepped out onto the cold, hard wooden floor. I tried to shift my weight onto my foot, but my heel slipped, and I tumbled to the ground – barely being caught by Kanae.

"Ahh… looks like there's atrophy," the lady said. I didn't have a clue what it meant at the time, but, looking back, I wondered how she could say such a thing so nonchalantly.

She scooped me up and we trod out into the hallway. This place – the 'medical faculty' of the Demon Slayer Headquarters – was massive, daunting, unrealistically huge, yet… devoid. Eerily empty. A hospital with no patients; a building with no furniture; a complex with no people. The strained grunting of the woman echoed uninterrupted, cutting through the silence that filled an unending series of hallways and alleys, broken up only by the occasional room. Kanae's silence didn't help to ease the atmosphere, either. I guess a fitting comparison would be the school I was in, except _that_ was bustling with vitality and had an electric atmosphere.

We came upon a grand door – which really was only 'grand' because everything else was sinfully unremarkable – and setting me down, the woman poised her hands on the door, before pushing…

* * *

My heart stopped, breathing froze.

What confronted me… was a sight of absolute, unparalleled beauty.

A surreal garden; serene, alluring, charmingly unkempt. Rays of sunlight danced off the surrounding marble tiles, interluded by sections of gleaming granite and limestone. Snakes of moss wound through the grounds, spotted with all manner of rich flora, and an oversized willow tree dominated the centre of the scene, its leaves melting towards the ground like ice on a summer day.

We walked over. Under the tree sat three individuals; a woman, worn in posture and frame, yet utterly, strikingly beautiful; and opposite her was the man who saved us from the demon, still massive and powerful, yet… crying. Streaming tears draped a gruff appearance that bore an expression of numbed anguish. They were each seated at the edges of a square marble table, which had trays of _mochi _and _manju _scattered over it.

And between them – was a figure that could only be described as enchanting.

Clean-cut black hair. Spotless porcelain skin. An inviting smile. Lavender unto obsidian eyes.

_This man… is he the leader?_

Even though I had no prior indication, the thought immediately struck me.

"_Oyakata-sama," _the woman said, prostrating herself. I barely latched onto her tight enough to prevent a fall.

"Ahh… Ohtori. She has woken up, I see. Thank you for bringing her."

'_Ohtori'? So that's her name._

"Ahmm… my pleasure! Uh…" she sputtered, but was waved silent.

"May we be left alone for a moment?"

"Y-yes, sir!" And she left in a hurry, plopping me on the ground in front of them. I don't know if it was just me, but, when she flashed past, I thought I saw her clutching her face, red as a tomato.

…

"You are well, I trust?"

This time, his words and gaze were directed at me.

"Yes…"

_Should I say 'sir'?_

"Mmm-hmm. Then that's good," he said, smile beaming even more, "My name is Ubuyashiki Kagaya. I am the head of the Ubuyashiki family, and leader of the Demon Slayers – but that doesn't matter. I'm sure you recognise the man on my left. Gyoumei, introduce yourself."

'_Gyoumei'? So that's what he's called._

_Sounds like a type of sweet._

"…I'm Gyoumei Himejima. Hello, pitiful child." He whispered the last part…

_Pitiful child? _

…but I still heard it.

His awkwardness and stiffness of posture was reminiscent of one who couldn't find anything to say – though, I don't blame him. He probably knew about my parent's deaths and didn't want to risk dwelling deeper into the topic.

_Should I say my name, too?_

_That's the correct thing to do as far as manners go._

_And why's Kanae so quiet?_

…

_Oh. She's probably been introduced already._

_Umm…_

"I'm Shinobu Kochou… thank you for saving us."

_Yeah – that came out well._

…

_Just like… just like mother told us how to do it._

…

_Ugh…_

_Why am I even here?_

"…And the woman to my right is the doctor who treated you," Ubuyashiki said, nodding to her.

She didn't reply, opting to keep staring aimlessly at the ground – I took the time to examine the woman a bit closer.

She looked to be in her late 30's, with dark, circled eyebags hanging under sunken eyes, and a moody expression tugging her lips into a frown. Her posture was slumped, yet tense – her shoulders were pulled into a hard line, and the way her hands were folded on her lap seemed forced, and restless.

But – she was still undeniably beautiful.

Long, shimmering black hair hanging freely across her neck –

A spotless cream-coloured complexion –

As well as glistening, stunning teal eyes, which her sharp and fatigued features could do little to hide.

And this woman's name was…

**"Tsubone Endou."**

She finally spoke, her gaze having found its way up to me. Her tone was disgruntled, but belying it was a voice so smooth and attractive, it electrified me and sent the hairs on my skin standing upright.

"U-umm, I'm Shinobu–"

"I already know," she snapped my sentence short, tone filled with cool contempt.

…

_How rude._

I looked over at Kanae. For some reason, she was glaring at Tsubone. The look in her eyes was chock-full of hate and disdain. Was it because of how she was treating me now? Or was it something that occurred while I was asleep?

Hey… come to think of it, what happened during the past month?

…

_No._

_That doesn't matter now._

_What's important is why the 'leader' called me here._

"Umm… thank you for treating me!" I exclaimed.

She didn't reply. This was getting somewhat awkward.

"Do you know where we are right now, Shinobu?" Ubuyashiki asked, breaking the silence.

"The… 'Demon Slayer Headquarters'?"

"Mmm-hmm. Then you must know who I am, too?"

"…The leader."

"Correct again. You're a clever girl, Shinobu."

This man… had a good way with words. Not in the way he just told people what they wanted to hear – which he did, just not blatantly – but in one that felt truly genuine, and struck all the right chords in one's heart. It made me feel all warm and giddy inside – though, I don't think Kanae was as impressed as I was. In response, the frown on her face only deepened.

"Shinobu, I've heard about what happened to you. For that, I'm truly sorry. If only we'd gotten there sooner, your parents would've been saved."

…

_There was no way they could've known our house would be attacked, anyway._

"Shinobu, I know you're still mourning your parents, but there's something important I need to tell you. Come sit over here. And you too, Kanae."

I crawled nearer wearily, with Kanae in trail, and sat up straight.

"Bear with me. The attack on your house wasn't a random, spontaneous incident. No – _it was planned. _More specifically, for a few years already. The demon's objective was not to feed, but to _kill._"

_What?_

_No._

_He's lying. I know it._

_Shouldn't have trusted him after all._

_There's no reason anyone would want_**_ us_**_ dead._

_Father and mother were kind people._

"Shinobu? Please concentrate," Ubuyashiki said, "do you know about the Pneumonia outbreak in Manchuria during the winter of 1910–1911?"

I'd heard the term come up a few times in my parents' conversations, but never really anything more than that. I shook my head.

"It was an extremely virulent disease that ravaged the Chinese Northeast for half a year, resulting in a death toll of around 60,000. During this time, a multinational medical team was formed in order to combat the plague. This included doctors from China, Germany, France, but most importantly, Japan. We sent 4 volunteers in total to Manchuria – this included your father.

When our doctors were forced to return to Japan due to unrest in China, they unknowingly brought the virus with them. That's because the incubation period of that particular strain of Pneumonia was about 10 days. As a result of this fatal error in judgement, outbreaks of the virus started popping up again, this time all over Japan – the most prominent of which being in Matsuyama, Shikoku.

Your father once again took up the torch to combat the disease. He developed a cure, and over time, through implementation, cases and numbers began to quell. The light was beginning to shine at the end of the tunnel. There was just one last person left afflicted by the virus, but then…

You were infected.

The vaccine was in limited supply. Only a single dose was left. Ingredients had to be imported from overseas – but by the rate the disease was progressing on both of you, they wouldn't make it in time. One had to live, one had to die.

In the end, your father chose you.

The other infected individual was Roman de Acosta's mother, and his last living relative. Or, as you might know her, your family cook. Your father was in charge of her treatment, and he promised to give her the last dose of the cure as soon as he prepared it. But, when his own daughter was infected, he rescinded the vaccine, and left Suzan de Acosta to die. Thus, the path of Roman de Acosta's vengeance was set in stone."

My heart turned to stone, and I felt my gut rip itself to shreds. My body had grown stiff, and my muscles were cramping so violently, _so vehemently,_ they threatened to pull themselves off the bone. My hands turned into bags of ice filled with pins and needles, and the blood drained from my head, leaving in its stead a gnawing pain. An overwhelming urge to vomit took over me, as a burning and sickly liquid accrued in my stomach. I clutched my body – so tight I could feel my nails bend and flesh nigh tear – and bent over.

_I do remember being extremely sick a while back._

…

_Goddammit._

_So… it's all my fault, isn't it?_

"Shinobu? Calm down."

_Calm down? Like hell I can._

_It's my fault. _

_My fault. _

_My fault!_

_My–_

"How is it that you know everything, then?" Kanae finally said, breaking her silence, "all this stuff about Roman de Acosta. Why should we trust you, anyway?"

"Simply because we have no reason to lie. Our organisation has fought, and protected people from demons for hundreds of years. We've been keeping tabs on Roman de Acosta due to his volatile mental state ever since your father made _the_ _choice_. Even though normally this isn't within our line of work, the Kochou family has supported us Ubuyashikis for generations, so we made an exception. Do you understand?"

"If you were watching him, then how'd he transform into a demon and attack us without you noticing?"

He didn't reply immediately, almost as if hesitating.

"We don't know."

Without leaving any time to think, and with the very utterance of those words, Kanae launched herself from behind me – hand drawn into a fist, arm staunched. A collision looked inevitable, and I winced in anticipation of what was to come.

But then – she stopped.

Curious, I maneuvered my head a few ways to the side, and what I saw astonished me.

Her arm – had been caught. Silently. Instantly. Without me even noticing.

Tsubone had leapt across the table and caught Kanae mid-air. Her grip was tight – so tight, in fact, that the skin on Kanae's bare arm bulged and turned purple, and looked as if it was bursting at the seams. My sister remained silent, but I could tell she was just barely holding back cries of pain. A bead of sweat trailed down Kanae's head, her knees faltered, and when Tsubone finally let go, she crumpled to the ground.

"Tsubone. You needn't be so harsh," Ubuyashiki cooed.

"She was trying to hit you," Tsubone replied.

"I know. Let her hit me. The hate is justified."

"…You know I can't let that happen. Your body is already starting to deteriorate. I can't risk letting anything accelerate it. You shouldn't even be here, anyway."

"Ahh… but the medical faculty is pretty desolate these days. So, when I heard there were new patients – and ones which were brought in under such peculiar conditions, at that – I couldn't help but come over."

I looked up at Himejima frantically, expecting him to say something, which he didn't. The streams of tears draping his cheeks only widened into rivers, and he began to mutter what I presumed was a mantra under his breath. "Namu Amida Butsu… Namu Amida Butsu…" – something like that.

"So, Shinobu, what will you do now?"

Another question directed at me. I looked up at Ubuyashiki, opened my mouth, yet did not speak. Indeed – that was a good question. What were we going to do now? Where were we going to stay? How would we source income? Sure, we wanted to fight demons, but a plan is empty if one does not have the means to execute it. And how would we–

"_Tell me, Shinobu, do you want to become a demon slayer?"_

The words took me by surprise. For a second, I couldn't process what I'd just heard. And then, the magnitude of what he said dawned on me.

_Demon slayer?_

_Of course._

_Why didn't I think of that earlier?_

The promise we made on that fateful night we lost everything… was just that – a promise. A promise that like many others, would never fruition. A promise made on the basis of emotion, rather than rationality. We were just children; so young, so foolish, whose lofty ambitions often remained figments of the imagination, and towered above any vestige of realism. Our dream of protecting others from demons seemed to be already fading into obscurity as soon as it came out of the gate.

But now…

I felt myself kneel – subconsciously, as if by force of habit. But I didn't try to stop it, either. For some unknown, inexplicable reason, it simply felt like the right thing to do.

_Yes._

_I want to become one._

Ubuyashiki stood up from his seat, and made his way around the table, stopping before me. A gust of wind blew – his raven hair and lavender kimono flapped in the air, but he nevertheless remained steadfast. I looked up – we exchanged glances for a moment, before he bent down on his knees, and lent me his ear. In it, I whispered my answer.

"_Yes."_

And he pulled me into an embrace. A warm embrace, an _ardent _embrace. We stayed like that for a few minutes, just him and I, and the world seemed still around us. A warm sensation started to take over me, then a tender one – but, I'm not sure if that's the right way to describe it, even. Before I knew it, tears were streaming across my face, and I was clutching onto him like a kitten to its mother. I didn't have the slightest idea why – all I knew was that I wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever.

Eventually, my tears dried up, and Ubuyashiki pulled away.

"Shinobu, you must also consider that you have to train somewhere," he said, "tutelage under any demon slayer cultivator is usually free, but most of them are male, and the prerequisites for them to accept you as mentees are geared towards boys. Female mentors do exist, but they are found far and few between, and I'm sure you don't have the resources to look for them right now. Luckily for you, though, I have just the right person to set you up with."

_Oh – yeah, right._

_Where do we train?_

…

_Wait._

_What did he say?_

'_Just the right person to set you up with'?_

_And a fellow female, he implied._

_It can't be…_

"Tsubone!"

Ubuyashiki didn't shout, but his voice still boomed. I looked up at the woman with wide and anticipating eyes – she appeared just as dazed as I was.

"Please?" Ubuyashiki asked.

"I absolutely refu-"

"Please..?" He looked up at her with beseeching eyes.

"..." She held a rebuke back, letting out a sigh.

…

The tension in the air could almost be cut with a knife –

… …

– as we waited with bated breath for her answer.

… … …

"What's in it for me?"

"To be honest… nothing, really."

"…Tch. Fine, then."

She seized us with a glare.

"Come with me."

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Umm..! Thank you!" I sputtered.

"…Just come. And you too, Kanae."

Kanae maintained a strained silence.

"What, so you don't want to accompany your sister? Fine, then." And with it, she stood from her seat, scooped me up, and started walking.

It only took a few seconds for Kanae to start running after us.

* * *

**Giyuu's POV**

What a damned cliché.

Tsutako's fiancé?

Douma's brother?

My… brother-in-law to be?

The phrase that was supposed to unravel the living hell I had gone through the past few days proved to be nothing but another incessant, bewildering paradox.

In the end, everything turned out to be interconnected, and yet, none of it made any more sense. I wanted – no – _needed_ answers, and yet, I couldn't find it in myself to reply, or further the conversation. My tongue was barred; body burning, head hurting.

And that man… was just staring at me; visibly concerned, so _palpably_ worried_. _For some reason, just the feeling of his eyes on me was sickening, nauseating. His mouth was half-open, as if wanting to say something, and his shoulders and arms were poised, ready to embrace and comfort me.

That beautiful sister whose image is burned in my mind, yet I have no memories of… would she really marry a man like that? I didn't have the slightest idea why, but I felt a skin-crawling, urgent animosity towards him, that pulled my gut to shreds and screamed in my ear to get away from him as soon as possible.

"Don't think too much now," he said, shattering the quiet, "just listen."

_As if you know the questions I want to ask._

"Mm-hmm. Umm… where to start? Oh – yeah. My brother, Douma, was born in 1756, being blessed with natural rainbow-coloured eyes and golden hair. My parents, either very gullible or wanting to capitalise on this, claimed that being born with such rare features meant he had some sort of link with the gods. They then set up a cult on the basis of the sentiment that he could communicate with deities, and it rapidly grew in popularity. Of course, he never _could. _I know this because he told me. But – back then, Japan was still quite isolated from the world, save for the rare Portuguese or Dutch trader, so the general populace was… for lack of better words… easy to fool. Or rather, they had a narrow view of the world.

A few years later, I was born. Unlike my brother, I did not possess rainbow-coloured eyes or even golden hair – I obtained the latter only after an experience I had, which I'm not going to go into. It occurred by way of 'Marie Antoinette Syndrome', if you know what that is.

For some reason, my parents kept me around, even if I don't think they really wanted to. They died when I was about seven, and Douma was twelve – I don't know how; don't really care to know. Eight years later, he was turned into a demon, and sometime after, he did the same for me. I regained my eyesight, and for the first time in my life, I felt truly _alive._

We lived together for a few hundred years, and life was good. I cherished and latched onto him, and in all honesty, viewed him less a brother than as an idol. I had never been exposed to the world prior to becoming a demon – which can be partly attributed to my being blind – so I had the mentality of a child. But – at some point, I began to shed my immaturity, and with it, I became weary – of the legitimacy of the cult, and the methods in which we conducted a living. Twelve years ago, out of frustration, I ran away. In retrospect, it was very emotional of me, and more of a spur-of-the-moment type of decision, but without it, I never would have met your sister. So, I don't expressly regret it.

Past this point everything becomes recent history – but since you've had your memories taken, here's the condensed version: we grew fond of each other, and decided to get married. But – by the time our engagement had been formalised, Douma had already risen to the rank of Number Four in the Twelve Demon Moons – the dozen most powerful demons serving directly under the demon lord. A runaway brother taking a human as his wife was not compatible with someone in his position, however, but by then, however, I was too deeply enamoured with Tsutako, and humanity as a whole, to go back. Giyuu, that talk you had with Mr Açores – scrap everything you heard. Everything I'm telling you right now is the truth. He wasn't lying to you, it's just that he didn't know any better. You get it? Let's move on.

The day before our wedding ceremony was due, I was recalled back to their headquarters, and presented a choice: to leave my human life behind, or to die. I chose neither, and fought vainly.

Of course, I was defeated, and 'killed'. But _how_ am I here then, you may ask? On the verge of death, my brother absorbed me into his body, preserving my personality and memories.

Are you familiar with the concept of 'give-and-take'? To put it in other terms and context: 'for every reaction, there is an equal and opposite reaction'. For any single thing, sentiment, concept, emotion, action, there is another that contrasts it. It may not be immediate, but it's always guaranteed. Happiness and sadness; life and death – things like that.

There are two conditions Douma needs to fulfill in order to take someone's memories: physical contact, and have something to give in return. The scope of the latter is hard to determine. It can be anything associated with the mind and body. It may range from an arm, to your memories of someone. One would give something of their choosing, and take what they want from the victim. For example, say Douma hasn't studied for a math test. He could approach someone who has, shake their hand or make any type of physical contact with them, probe the information in their brain, extract their knowledge of math, and in its place, leave his own knowledge of history. In this way, he would've given up his knowledge of history, for an equally proportionate knowledge of mathematics. That's the key; 'equally proportionate'. Whatever lost can only command a reciprocation of something equal in value. Douma can't give up a memory of that time he went to a market and expect to receive all the knowledge of some scholar, for example. In alchemy – the study of the transmutation of matter – one calls this 'equivalent exchange'.

Each demon has a power – called a 'blood demon art' – that is unique and characteristic of them. The general rule is that a demon can only have one blood demon art – this applies to Douma, too. Though, absorbing people's consciousness, altering memories – this is an ability he inherently has, and one that isn't affected by the laws of devil kin, and blood demon arts. I should mention, however, that Douma can absorb people indiscriminately and without consequence, as opposed to when altering memories. But, I digress.

After absorbing me, Douma was ordered to kill Tsutako and you, as compensation for his failure of allowing me to get close to her in the first place."

His tone spiked, as if gritting his teeth.

"Under normal circumstances, Douma would've just been executed on the spot, without being given leeway to… 'rectify' his mistake. But – the Demon Lord holds him in high regard. His ability is valuable because it allows him to control vast populations of humans and demons alike.

Back to the talk of 'equivalent exchange'. As you've probably inferred, Douma used_ that _ability on you. Whether it was when he gripped your neck, or poised his nails below your chin that he fulfilled the first condition of requiring contact, I don't know. But, in exchange for your memories of your sister, he implanted the consciousness of me that he absorbed previously, into your body."

He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath.

"So, does that answer most of your questions?"

_I barely even understand anything. But, for the most part, yeah._

_Although… there's still one left._

_Why?_

_Why did Douma take my memories? Why did he replace them with his brother's… 'consciousness'? _

_Why… didn't he just kill me outright, like he did Tsutako?_

_None of this makes any sense._

"I don't know."

"What?"

"I don't know the answers to those questions."

…

_He… read my mind?_

"Yeah. Since I reside inside your head, I can read everything that goes in-and-out of it."

My heart sunk to my stomach.

_So… he knew I was bashing him earlier? _

"Hah… but that was to be expected. Don't worry about it."

"Huh? Why?" I sputtered.

"It doesn't matter," he declared, "you have other questions, right? No, I know you do. So, speak up. I won't answer if you don't."

…

'_Tsutako's fiancé', huh?_

"Say… you don't seem to be affected," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"You… were Tsutako's fiancé. You loved her deeply. And yet… here you are; smiling, laughing, chatting without a care in the world. Why are you even helping–"

"Giyuu," he uttered calmly, cutting me off, eyes darkening under his blond bangs, "if there is any one thing that you must know – _one thing _– it's to not mistake my silence for a lack of grief. I cherished Tsutako more than anyone else in the world, and even now, I…" he trailed off.

…

"No. I shouldn't say such heavy things. Guess I'm… getting carried away."

…

"…I'm sorry."

"Yeah. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

…

"So? Any other questions?" he asked, trying to steer the mood.

"It seems… you can see everything I see, right?"

"Yeah – but not limited to that. I can hear and feel, too."

"Uh-huh. Do you remember when I met that girl called… umm…"

"Shinobu?"

"…Yeah. How about when I broke down in front of her?"

He nodded.

"Why… did I cry? Even if my sister – no, _Tsutako _– was killed, I don't feel anything. I think… it's because my memories of her are gone. But, after I recounted my encounter with Douma to Shinobu, I cried. Even though I don't feel any attachment to her; even if I don't have any recollections of her."

"That's because the effect of Douma's Blood Demon Art isn't instantaneous. Whatever is being exchanged – in this case, your memories of Tsutako and my consciousness – is transmitted over a period of time that is dependent on the _amount _of 'information' being transferred. Erm… I can't really quantify it, so I hope you understand for now."

"So… you're saying that back then, I was still in the process of losing my memories?" I asked.

"Yeah, basically."

"Basically?"

I couldn't tell if he was being serious or not.

'_Basically'?_

_So, you're telling me that what this man is saying isn't even guaranteed to be true?_

…

_No._

_I trust him._

_There's no reason for him to be lying. The intricacy of what he's telling me is proof._

_It's just…_

"Tell me, Giyuu, after all that explanation, are you now able to draw the lines?"

"Huh?"

"Since I exist in your dreams now, I can make you see and experience anything. That in-another's-body experience you had last time was my doing. Can you guess _why_ I showed you that?"

"No. I can't think of any reason why…"

"Ah… I see. It doesn't seem like you're lying, either…" he mumbled absent-mindedly.

"What?"

"Erm, nevermind that. As you've probably already gathered, you were reliving one of _my _memories. More specifically, the one of the last time I saw Tsutako before I… well… died."

_Ahh… _

_So – the day before the wedding ceremony? A few hours before she was killed?_

_I had a hunch that was the case._

"I showed you that memory just to see that if it would strike a chord with you, and maybe, just maybe, you'd remember your sister. But – it looks not…"

He trailed off, or rather, I stopped listening to him talk. Something strange, inexplicable was happening to me.

My heart begun to pang –

My previously zealous mind had dimmed –

And my eyes went out of focus.

A strange sensation was brewing inside of me. In retrospect – from the eyes of a twenty-two-year old man looking through the lens of his twelve-year old self – I know full well what it was, but, if I were talking solely about that moment, in a context where it was detached from all time and all sense of self I have now, I wonder, just _what_ I was feeling?

Melancholy?

Anguish?

Heartbreak?

Misery?

Grief?

Hopelessness?

Perhaps it was a mix of all those things, or everything _but_.

I felt…

I felt –

Defeated.

"…If Douma has my memories, then… there's no way I'm able to get–"

"_No way to get them back?_" He cut me off, speaking passionately, emerald eyes flaring. "Who decided that? What is there to determine that is the only, absolute and utter truth, and that you should remain subservient to it while others trample over you? Hmph…"

A false calm, interluding a drastic change in personality, and then…

"…Giyuu Tomioka!"

He sprung to his feet with the utterance of my name, and grabbed my shoulders. I tried to struggle, but his infallible gaze and iron grip waned me.

"Let me give you hope now, Giyuu, and promise me you'll never lose faith again. There is a way for you to regain your memories of your sister. It'll be a long, treacherous road, and there's no guarantee that you'll see the end – but – you love Tsutako, don't you? Even if you've 'forgotten' your sister, the love you had for her remains, deep down inside. But, Giyuu, it will remain that way as long as you continue to be stagnant, without moving forward. This path to regaining your memories… is actually quite linear, and simple. But it won't be easy – no – not by any means. It will be hellish, treacherous, body-breaking. And, at the end of it, you'll have to **kill Douma."**

My heart shattered.

_Kill… Douma?_

…

_But that's impossible._

_I saw, no, _**_we_**_ saw how powerful he is._

"You're funny, Giyuu. You have all the tools laid out before you, and yet, you still doubt yourself, and refuse to take action," his tone wasn't resentful, but it struck my heart like a knife.

Letting go of my body, he stood up, and took a deep breath.

"Giyuu – become a Demon Slayer. Avenge your sister's death. Get your memories back.

_Kill _Douma_._You'll be presented with a choice when you wake up, and I won't try to influence your judgement before the time – but – when it comes to it, I know you'll make the right decision," he said, voice softer as a smile begun to tug the corner of his lips.

_The right decision?_

"Am I… going to wake up soon?"

"Mmm-hmm. Didn't I just… say that?"

…

"Then… could you at least tell me your name?"

The man didn't immediately reply, as if contemplating, even if I don't really think he was.

"It's… **Youma**_._ Just Youma. I know yours already, but I think you should introduce yourself, too, just for the sake of it."

"Giyuu… Giyuu Tomioka."

Youma stretched his hand out.

"Huh–"

"We're… technically brothers, but I think 'partners-in-crime' is much more befitting a label. If you _do_ decide to become a Demon Slayer, then I promise to help and train you in any way I can. We'll need to shake hands on it, however, to seal the deal. It's an unwritten rule for this type of thing, you know?"

…

_Partners-in-crime, eh?_

_How corny._

_But… I don't mind._

_I feel like I can trust him._

"Heh… I guess."

I grasped his hand and shook up-and-down.

"See you in the next dream… Giyuu," he said.

And with it, a haze of white overtook me, and I slid out of unconsciousness, back into the real world.

* * *

This time, my awakening was less force and more elegance. I observed the familiar decrepit cabin with a calm eye; the room was still devoid of much furniture and substance, and had the lingering smell of mold and dew. The masked man was there, too, in the corner, shuffling his hands in some cabinet, which he seemed to have a habit of doing. Taking note of me, he turned around.

"So, you've decided?"

* * *

**Douma's POV – one hour after the killing of Shinobu's parents.**

I found Roman de Acosta in a cave, writhing in agony on the ground, soaked in a pool of blood and entrails.

I wrinkled my nose at the stench and narrowed my eyes. Almost the entire upper portion of his body was gone. His brain was seeping out of his skull, melting at the seams, and I cringed when I saw the fleshy pink bags spilling out of his chest inflate, and then collapse; a viscous, sickly yellow liquid pooling out from his snapped windpipe, infused with all manners of gore and pus. His body convulsed with every breath he took, contorting and folding into a lopsided shape, and was accompanied by a demonic wheezing

Taking note of me, he covered his grotesque face with his remaining arm, as if ashamed of his appearance. He flexed and curled his fingers, and watched me through their gaps. Eventually, he started to dig into his own flesh, piercing his cheeks with jagged nails, shredding them into string, before muttering something incomprehensible, eventually devolving into a screaming of the same phrase over and over again:

"**I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! All of you! All those who left her to die!"**

I shook my head at the pitiful sight.

"That demon slayer guy got you good, didn't he?"

He didn't stop shouting. I navigated my way through the sea of gore and bent over by his side.

"You were cocky and demanded a large amount of blood. Now look what's happened. A human body can only withstand an Upper Moon's blood for so long, before they start to transform. I told you to wait until you'd fully turned – but now, you've went and attacked _them_, only to get completely mauled by a demon slayer. On top of that, you ran off into broad daylight. You're not going to regenerate at this point. The only reason you're still alive is because you found this cave in time. Tell me, is this what you wanted? Will your revenge be exacted now?"

Suddenly, he fell silent.

"…What's… it… to you..?"

"Nothing, really, and to be honest, I don't care. You can die miserable in this damned cave, and I wouldn't bat an eye. But – before then, I present you an offer."

He didn't reply, but I knew he was interested when he glanced up at me. I felt the corner of my lip tug upwards out of anticipation, but I suppressed it.

"Why don't you… become my successor?"

His gaze widened.

"Being a half-human, half-demon hybrid, I can't live forever. A long time, sure, but not indefinitely. Long story short, I don't have much left to go. That's why I need someone to take up the torch. Someone like you, who has _drive._ Someone to lead the Eternal Paradise Cult when I have passed, and take my place as Upper Moon 2. Of course, there'll be another blood transfusion involved – much more painful than the last, but I'm sure that, for _you_, it's only a small price to pay."

"…And… why… should I..?"

"Hey now, don't act coy. You're on the verge of death – don't you want a second chance at revenge? And, after you've inflicted your vengeance, you'll get to live a life of luxury, and comfort. The splendour of your existence will be equal to those of the gods. Doesn't that sound appealing?"

He was quiet for a while, but I could infer serious and raging consideration filled the own silence in his head. His breathing calmed, and gathering himself, he looked at me with fire in his eyes.

"**Do it."**

A grin spread across my face.

"As you wish, my regent."

* * *

**A/N**

**\- If you're wondering why Douma and Youma's backstory seems so watered down, that's because it is. ****There'll be more to come, so stay tuned... right now, I offer you these words: don't take anything at face value.**

**\- Last chapter, while Urokodaki is lamenting the deaths of his pupils, he says he's trained forty-seven disciples in his lifetime (I made up this number) - all of whom are dead. This differs from the 'official' number given: 13. Though, please note, that figure refers to the amount of Urokodaki's students the Hand Demon has killed, not necessarily all the mentees he's had in his lifetime (though, I guess saying that all forty-seven were killed by demons was rather misleading to this end).**


	11. Stringent Lioness, Naive Cub

**Bonus chapter: Stringent Lion, Naive Cub**

* * *

**Shinobu's POV**

Tsubone Endou.

Female.

Superbly beautiful, well-rounded features – unhindered by age. Sharp in all the right places, and round in all the others.

Looks to be in her late thirties, but is actually forty-one.

One-hundred-and-sixty centimetres tall. Undeniably alluring in appearance, and has a vivacious figure, but she is impeded by a forever downtrodden personality. She's constantly moody, and manages to look tired all the time – as if she's haunted by something.

An ottoman azure haori draped her shoulders. She wears the standard demon slayer uniform underneath, and a sheath holding a sword is strapped to her belt. The size of it is disproportionately large compared to her.

Tsubone Endou.

My mentor.

Tsubone Endou, I found, was quite a strange woman. A strange, deep woman whom I could never see beyond the surface level of.

Yes – deep indeed.

During my and Kanae's training years spent under her, I toiled and struggled, gave up and pushed through – and indeed, though this may sound comical – I can say I only barely survived. But – that was only half the battle. Physical training is something simple; difficult, yes, but relatively simple. A linear path, one could say. The other half, I found, was spent trying to understand my mentor. Trying to understand this woman who called herself Tsubone Endou.

I think it's best to gauge her character through her actions rather than pure description. For example, she'd sometimes get this faraway look in her eyes. A certain hollowness would take hold of them, but there would also be an inexplicable sadness. Her lips would sag into a frown, and she'd stare off into the distance, spacing out. No words would reach her during this time, and when I'd resort to physical means to wake her, she'd jerk backwards – sort of like a frightened cat – whenever I touched her. She'd look at me frantically for a second, with wide and seemingly afraid eyes, before calming down. I don't know whether she actually _did _relax, or just wanted to wipe the expression from her face, but that is of little consequence to know.

I guess a befitting metaphor for her would be a hermit crab – though, even that isn't entirely accurate. A hermit crab has only one layer between it and you – but Tsubone… she'd let you through the gates of her heart, allow you to linger there a little bit in some semblance of relative closeness, before promptly shoving another wall up in your face. When I'd ask her about her past, Tsubone would speak cryptically of it. In circles that led nowhere, in riddles and conundrums, and with answers that really didn't answer anything at all.

But I'm not complaining about her – no, not at all. Though our relationship had a comparably rough start, in the time that we spent together, she grew dear to Kanae and I. I eventually came to appreciate that awkwardness of hers as an integral part of her character, rather than a blemish on it.

And – speaking of 'the start'…

* * *

The first day Kanae and I spent with Tsubone was quite a strange one. Though it wasn't necessarily decisive, it was eventful. Me telling you this may bear some significance to you, Giyuu, but it will do so only now – in the present day – and even then, it would only serve as a corner piece of a puzzle that had essentially been completed already, all those years ago.

Tsubone was strong. Or rather, I should say, she was uncannily strong. For a doctor – a _lady_ doctor – to walk around carrying a child in her one arm, she was well earning of the description.

I presumed we were en route to her home. We had emerged into open air and were trotting along a cobble path winding its way into a forest, shaded by the canopy and looking quite overgrown. Kanae sulked behind us, and the air felt awkward.

And it was during this transit I learned that this woman wasn't just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, plain Jane doctor (which I'd already inferred at that point), but also a…

"Hashira."

"Hashira?" I asked, "what's that?"

"The highest–ranking swordsmen in the Demon Slayer Corps," she replied in her characteristic moody tone, continuing to gait, "each Hashira is synonymous with a certain element, or more specifically, a 'breath style'. Hence, _Water _Hashira. But we'll get into breaths and breath styles later…"

Already, I was being overwhelmed.

"Umm… and what kind of Hashira are you, lady?" I tried to steer the topic.

"The Water Hashira."

"Water Hashira? Do you fight with water? Is the Water Hashira good?"

I assaulted her with questions, as all kids do.

"No, no. Uh…"

She stalled, as if carefully considering her next words, but they died on her lips. And we continued onwards, silent.

…

We came upon a clearing in the forest, and Tsubone suddenly halted.

"Now that we're here… it's been about 7,000 steps," she muttered.

"…What?" I replied.

"You, there – _Kanae_..? Is that your name? Come over here." Tsubone said, turning around, completely ignoring me.

"…What for?"

"We're going to _jump."_

"Wait – jump where? And why jump? How-"

In a striking move, Tsubone kicked up the dirt and zoomed over to my sister's side. I only processed what happened afterwards: flattening her hand, she descended upon Kanae's neck. She folded over, and Tsubone picked her up with her free arm, muttering something along the lines of "Will you just be quiet.", and I'm not sure what she meant by that.

When I did register it, I was scared beyond belief. Scared beyond belief because I was a nine-year-old and had just witnessed an epic case of domestic violence; a really one-sided catfight, if you will. But, nothing would've prepared me for what happened next…

Quite literally, we jumped.

Leapt into the air.

Bid our farewells to the ground.

And as we soared into the sky, the canopy above us now turned into a blanket of green below us, and the world seemed a much smaller place when viewed from above, there was first a pause. A pause – in which we took in the scenery, and its beauty. Before some instinct inside me clicked, and I emptied my lungs and screamed.

"Aaaaahhhh!"

We shot through the atmosphere. The wind flapped my clothes and whistled in my ears, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I closed my eyes, and prayed. How nice it would be if this could all end–

_Huh?_

Suddenly, the wind blew no more and the world came to a standstill around us. I opened my eyes; we had landed in what was presumably a courtyard. A lush, exotic-looking courtyard, much like the one we had been in just before, but a bit more overgrown, and unruly.

So, this was Tsubone's home? How befitting of her. She didn't seem the type of person who'd care to maintain a garden, let alone a courtyard of this size.

"…Did you enjoy that? Flying?" Tsubone asked.

_No, I didn't._

"I guess..." I replied.

"Hmph. You're lying. But nevermind."

_Then what was the point of asking the question?!_

She truly was an awkward woman.

The courtyard we were in was surrounded by high stone walls, much like the other one, but was bare of furniture and lush with unidentifiable flora rather than well-kempt flowers. It looked frozen in time – but I'm not going to dwell too long on it. There was nothing really of note.

"Stay here for now."

_What?_

Tsubone spoke, shattering the stillness, trotting over to the near side of the courtyard and opening a shutter on the wall. She stepped inside into pitch darkness, and when my eyes adjusted, I saw that we were in a quarter of sorts. When asked, Tsubone said it was hers.

The room was quite compact, with various high shelves and cupboards lining the walls, supporting a colourful motley of glass jars, trinkets, and medicines – all arranged very neatly and orderly. In the centre was a modest table, and on it, an opened envelope still containing a letter, and some sort of miniature case for some unknown object. It was quite fancy–looking, though.

"I'm going to Matsuyama to scout the situation out," Tsubone said, setting me down on a chair, "it'll get dark soon, so stay here. There's a gas lamp in the cupboard… umm… yeah, here. And the futons are… over here."

"Wha–" I sputtered.

"I have to go now. I'll be back soon. And you see those?" She pointed to the envelope and case. "Don't touch them. Do not. I'm warning you. Good bye."

"Wai–"

And before I could finish my sentence, she was gone in the blink of an eye; leaving behind an empty hallway, an opened cupboard, and a bewildered girl.

But – I wasn't alone.

As if by magic, Kanae had appeared by my side, still snoozing away. Despite her malnourished appearance, she looked beautiful. Utterly beautiful. She always did, of course, but now more so than ever. In this I took a bit of solace, and slowly, but surely, I felt myself being overtaken by emotion.

Kanae – was still here. And to make good on our promise, she was all I needed.

* * *

The evening began to descend into darkness, and the wine-coloured sky dissipated along with it. A small clock in the corner of the room told me two hours had passed since Tsubone's departure. I reached for the gas lamp and turned the knob – only to realise that I had nothing to light it. Giving up, I collapsed onto the futon, next to Kanae.

_No choice but to sleep, I guess._

But that was fine with me, because the stillness and silence of night gave me time to mourn.

To mourn my parents.

To mourn their lives.

To cry.

I shed a single tear, but only to myself.

A single tear – and no more.

Just that once, and never again.

Because I wasn't ever going to look back.

* * *

_Tump–tump._

It came in the middle of night – around twelve or so – and without warning. Kanae was still asleep. Lazily, I perked my head up. Someone was approaching from the hallway. The shutter slid open, revealing Tsubone clad under the glow of moonlight. But the rhythmic dance of light and shadow did little to hide her distressed appearance.

"W–welcome back," I stammered, voice still a bit stuffy, nose clogged.

"You're still awake?" her tone was frozen and sharp, and she averted her eyes when she spoke, "go to sleep."

"Umm… yes! But..."

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

I felt something in the air snap.

"It's nothing of your concern." She swept around and pulled the shutter closed – but stopped short. "Did you read it?"

Her voice was threatening, borderline sadistic, and sent a chill down my spine.

_She means the letter?_

"No… I didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"…Sure."

She seemed to be skeptical of me, for she was silent for a while.

"Your voice is patchy. You've been crying, haven't you?"

I should've been surprised that she knew. But I wasn't.

"...Grieve, but only for today. Tears won't avenge them, nor will help combat the demons," Tsubone offered, "rest well, for tomorrow your training begins. By the way, you should be more grateful to your sister."

"Hmm? Why?" I blinked.

"I'll give her the satisfaction of saying it herself. I'll be going again, now."

_Huh?_

_Going again?_

_But it's so late._

She turned around, and poised to jump.

_Umm… I should at least say something._

_I feel obligated to, since she took us in._

_But what?_

"Uh… goodnight," I mumbled.

Tsubone didn't reply, and in the next moment, she was gone.

* * *

It was only the next day I came upon the answer, in the early morning, when en route to our first training session of the day.

A boulder. An unbelievably massive, hulking boulder – well taller and wider than a two–story building – standing alone in the middle of a vast pasture; a long, straight trail of upturned dirt following it. The image of it inexplicably reminded me of Himejima. I stared in wonder for a while, before Kanae, my chauffeur by way of piggyback ride, spoke up.

"Heh-heh! Look at you now… look at you! You… b*£&h! Everyone thought I couldn't do it, _that I couldn't move you_, but now…" A scarily sadistic smile crept over her face, sending a chill coursing through me.

My innocent mind couldn't register what she said then, I presumed she was referring to the rock. And it sounded like she was insulting the boulder, too – how strange. But 'move you'? If we're taking what Kanae said literally… it meant that _she_ moved that boulder. That would explain the trail of dirt behind it, but–

"So you see, Shinobu? It's all fine now!"

_Huh? What's 'fine' now?_

My sister's words pulled my gaze from the boulder and onto her, and I was taken aback with what I saw.

She was looking right at me, and Kanae – had stars in her eyes. The emotion in them was unmistakable.

_Then… does that mean it's true?_

_Over the course of the past month, Kanae… moved that unearthly, huge boulder._

_Come to think of it, despite her looking so skinny, she seems unusually strong and full of energy._

_She'd always found it difficult to carry me on her back, too. But now she's doing it effortlessly – and running while at it, as well._

_But…_

"But… why?" I asked.

"Why?" Kanae affirmed, toothy grin spreading from ear to ear, "well, it's not like we could've just been inducted into demon slayer training without being tested first. This… this here was the test. To push this boulder here alllllll the way from there."

"Isn't that a bit overkill? The size, I mean."

"No, not really. Normally, the boulder would only be half this size."

"Then why isn't it?"

"Cus' I did the test for you, too!" She beamed.

_What..?_

_Oh yeah – on that note, doesn't that mean I have to do the test too?_

_But then, what is Kanae saying?_

_She's… done the test for me as well?_

…

_Wait…_

"Kanae… then is that why the boulder was double the size?"

_Yes. It all makes sense now._

_But still then, why?_

_Why didn't she just wait for me?_

_For me to do my part?_

_She didn't have to–_

"Shinobu…" Kanae cooed playfully, eyes and cheeks pudgy like a buddha, "don't look at me like that. Isn't this the type of thing sisters do?"

"Yes, but–" Before I could finish my sentence, I was pulled into an embrace and smothered.

A choking, stifling, one–sided embrace.

But…

I didn't especially mind.

No – not really.

In fact, the emotion I was feeling back then – was gratitude. Silent gratitude. But gratitude nonetheless.

I smiled, but only to myself.

And it was at that moment I made a decree.

A decree to myself – a decree to Kanae.

**My sister, the last remaining member of my family.**

**Kanae Kochou.**

**Even if it cost me my own life -**

**I would never allow her to die.**

**Because she was all I had left. **

Too bad, though, Giyuu.

We all know how it ended.

* * *

**A/N**

**How are you all? It's been, I think, a month since I last posted? I'm sorry - about that, and how short this chapter is.**** Time flies by so quick. I was debating whether to release this chapter on its own, or simultaneously along with the next one. I chose the latter. ****If it's of any solace to you, the prologue ends now for sure. I said it would be last chapter, but I just had to insert this short interlude, sort of as a bonus chapter. Heh-heh. **

**On another topic; lord, are there a lot of OCs in this story already. Mr Aç****ores, Tsubone Endou, Youma, Roman de Acosta, etcetera. Some of them I created completely from scratch, but a lot of them are (and a lot more in the future will be) characters that are supposed to exist in KNY proper, yet are never mentioned. To explain what I mean, take Muzan as an example. For every person, there must be a mother and father. His mother is shown in the manga (not necessarily characterised, though), but his father doesn't make any appearances. But he is still _supposed to exist._** **You get it?  
**

**If you don't know why I'm telling you this, you don't have to. You'll see why, in the future.**

**That's all for now. Peace!**


	12. Giyuu Tomioka, Vagabond

Three years later, and the world has begun to change.

Giyuu Tomioka is now fifteen–years old, and a contrite member of the Demon Slayer Corps. Although he has grown in both appearance and character, Giyuu is still very much the same vengeful twelve–year old he was back then, and he has allowed this hate to define him – even if there is no apparent reason, or source for it. Still reeling from the loss of a certain lavender–eyed boy, he has his sights trained on a man whom he wishes to eliminate for the sake of avenging a woman that is now all but a lofty, distant recollection to him.

In the wake of an assignment gone badly wrong, and taking refuge from the oppressive summer in the shade and coolness of a cabin, Giyuu Tomioka makes a pact with himself. Slinging his past over his shoulders, and entrusting his future to the cool lethality of his blade, he begins to embark on the path of blood.

* * *

Part 1: Omen  
June 1915

* * *

**Giyuu's POV**

"Giyuu, are you sure about this?"

A rhetorical question – he knew I'd made up my mind and that there was no changing it. But I still answered.

"I'm sure, Youma."

A single window allowed some daylight to shed through, illuminating the pitch–black interior of the cabin, and the desk in front of me. I steadied my hand, and pressed down with all my weight. With the other, I began to cut.

_Snip, snip, snip._

A glob of sweat trailed down my forehead. My eyes went dry and vision hazy. Down the middle, on the line – just as planned. I straightened up, and allowed myself a bit of satisfaction when seeing it'd been split perfectly into two. But I didn't relax just yet.

"And now, to sew them together."

I lined up the two different halves and started to sew. Pinning the needle to the cloth, I threaded it through – a translucent, colourless fibre following it, that wouldn't be visible once I was done. Gradually and deliberately, I made my way up, until reaching the collar, and tying a knot.

Letting out a sigh of finality and relief, I held up the finished product closer to the light, and took the sight in:

A half-and-half haori.

One side a crimson red, and the other a cubistic yellow–and–green.

Tsutako and Sabito.

Two aspects of my past that I refused to let go.

Two aspects of my past – that I would take into the future.

"You did an uncannily good job. Though, I guess I shouldn't be so surprised."

I shifted my gaze. Youma was leaning against a beam, a genial smile playing across his lips.

"Knitting and sewing – that kind of thing – was one of your sister's hobbies. And I remember you'd always watch her so intently whenever she did it. I guess it just stuck with you; even if you've forgotten, no, had your memories of her taken."

"Oh. Is that so…"

I looked back at the haori.

"So, you're ready to go now?"

Without replying, I made my way to the door and opened it. A powerful wind flooded in, threatening to overtake me, and I was basked in the golden sunlight of summer – but I remained unfazed. I pulled the fluttering haori over my arm, and adjusted it around my shoulders.

It was a perfect fit.

"Let's go."

* * *

The city of Hiroshima floated in the heat, and from the vantage point the hill on which the cabin sat upon provided, bore the conscientious serenity of a mirage. We descended towards the ground, wading through fields of corn, edamame, sprawling rice paddies, and towering sunflowers that were characteristic of a quivering Japanese summer landscape sculpting the outskirts of a town.

Being in the country, we had come to encounter the raw and unadulterated nature of it in its entirety. The heat was simmering, and the air awash with the scent of dew and summer flora. The thick humidity was choking and my hair stuck to the back of my neck. But it was pleasant, in a way. A respite, one could say. A respite from the regulations and bustle of the city, and the chaos of my new life in general. My life – as a demon slayer.

In that vein, it was my job as a demon slayer that led me to Hiroshima.

My last assignment had been, quite frankly, a disaster – primarily because I had been tasked with eliminating a demon that was far out of my league, but partly also because I got cocky and didn't try to back out once I'd recognised this fact. I was badly injured during the battle (three broken ribs, several deep lacerations, yada yada), and was saved just in the nick of time by the rising of the sun. You damn bet that hurt my ego like hell, but no less than the wounds did my body; I crawled over to the nearest hospital, and passed out – leaving the rest to God, and the power of modern medicine.

That was three months ago. My thirst for glory had since pacified, and I had been given a new assignment. To quote my Kasugai crow:

"_A demon is on the loose! A demon is on the loose!_

_Seventeen people have gone missing – including five swordsmen we sent. This is most likely the work of a demon._

_Eliminate the target with utmost discreetness and efficiency. Do not disturb public order._

_Perform your duty as a Demon Slayer, and head to Hiroshima. Once there, await further orders."_

[Of course, my crow didn't relay the message this smoothly. Whatever that old coot said, this was my interpretation.]

In the scope of a Demon Slayer's job, this was pretty standard fare. But I had grown wary after my diminishing failure, and took it upon myself to 'tread with caution', this time – as if I knew what caution meant. But I digress.

…

"See?" Youma said, us having found refuge in the shade of a bamboo forest, "you shouldn't have worn that haori. I guess you were trying to be cool and all – no pun intended – but don't you remember that whatever you feel, I feel? I'm busy dying over here."

"Oh, yeah… that's right," I replied. Ever since Youma had taken on a physical form and rescinded from merely existing in my head, we'd been tied in both mind and body. I tended to forget that often, though.

"It's strange, isn't it? I never thought it would be possible for me to exist outside your dreams," Youma continued, "but now, here I am, existing in this state of offhand physicality. I can walk and talk and stalk. Though, of course, only you can see and hear me – and I can't interact with the environment, either. And, since I still am technically still 'part of you', I can read your thoughts, feel whatever you feel, and so on."

"What're you telling me all this for..? I already know everything."

"No, you don't. I know you forgot – I can read your thoughts, remember? You're lying through your teeth. It's been, I think, a year since I suddenly appeared by your bedside that one morning? I still don't know how, but what matters is that it happened, and that it looks like there is no reverting it. I'd have thought you would've become familiar with my presence at this point, but it looks like not."

"Okay, boomer. Calm down. That's all in the past now."

"Your definition of the past is the immediate ten seconds ago. But whatever. And what's a 'boomer', anyway?"

"An old man. But it's a modern term."

"Uh–huh."

Taking a break from beating along the cobblestone path, we leaned against the bamboo shoots for a while, and observed the rare passerby to pass the time.

I should take this chance to elaborate a bit more on Youma's appearance. He wasn't exactly identical to Douma, as I first perceived; his brows were less bushy, and hair shorter, as well as more ruly; being tied up into a low ponytail, much like mine, allowing some bangs to arch over his face. He had rounder eyes – which were green, of course – and was a bit shorter and slimmer. Of course, he was still a hulk of a man, being quite tall – much taller than me at the time – and muscular. He was decked out in a plain navy–blue jacket, belying a similarly, albeit lighter shade of blue kimono, which sported patterned bronze embroidery, and a white collar. This was tucked into a dark beige hakama, woven into a monochrome tartan pattern, with lines of brown, grey, and cream straddling and scaling it. Overall, he had quite a noble appearance.

There was no–one really of note, save for a few farmers who shot me derisive looks on their way past. They must've thought I was some thug, what with my sword, mismatching haori, and scraggly long hair. At some point, Youma faded out of sight, presumably to explore (which he had a habit of doing), but just as I was about to get going again, though, the most striking man I ever saw in my life strolled into sight, and I was stopped in my tracks.

He had long, lavish white hair, tied up into a bun held in place by an exotic jewel–embedded headband and gold–trimmed lace, with piercing fuchsia eyes and a heap of gold and silver piercings dotting his ears. The man was impossibly tall, and wide, and belying a beige cloak was a skin tight tunic dyed in a psychedelic black–and–white pattern which didn't suit him at all, and that was very hard on the eyes. But this did not detract from the imposing aura he exuded. If I had to describe him in one word, it would be… flamboyant.

Taking note of me, he halted and returned my gaze, looking deeply into my eyes. For a few aching seconds, we were still – just staring; only staring at each other – until all of a sudden, the mailbox next to me became very interesting, and I averted my eyes. But even then, he kept his own on me, trailing down my body. I was instantaneously unnerved. And then, he spoke.

"What're you doing here?"

His voice was fruity, yet had a belying seriousness.

"This is no place for girls. You've heard about the recent disappearances, haven't you?"

_What does he mean, 'for girls'?_

_Is he speaking to me?_

"Cat got your tongue? Oh – I get it. You must be scared," he said. I could sense a smile spread over his face. "Well, fret not. I'm here to find and take down whoever's responsible for this."

_That sounds real corny._

_But could it be..?_

"Even it may be a demon, I'm specially trained. So, you can rest easy. But for now, go home. It's time for me – _to_ _dance_."

_That he's another demon slayer?_

_But…_

I swung around, ready to confront him, only to find – that he was gone. In the blink of an eye; gone. Gone with no trace. Gone with the whistling wind weaving through the bamboo.

Youma suddenly appeared by my side, frantic. "What happened? I heard you shout in your thoughts," he said.

_Lord, does that sound lame when put into words._

"Youma," I said.

"Mhh-hmm?"

"It appears someone is trying to beat me to the chase."

"Oh," he replied, "another demon slayer, you mean?"

"I don't think he was a demon slayer, per se. He didn't have a katana on him. But he said that he was here to 'take down whoever's responsible for this', and he was under the same impression that a demon was the root cause."

"Oh – I get it. That's strange and all, but what's it to you?"

"Nothing, it's just that…" I trailed off.

"Just that..?"

…

"C'mon, spit it out."

"…If I don't kill another demon soon, I won't get paid."

Indeed, the root cause of ninety–nine percent of all problems in this world was, and still is – money.

Aside from sticking out their necks clean for the guillotine which we shall affectionately label 'demon slaying' on the daily, demon slayers also had another thing to worry about: finances.

In the demon slayer corps, there is a ranking system for swordsmen that goes like this (from lowest to highest):

Mizunoto → Mizunoe → Kanoto → Kanoe → Tsuchinoto → Tsuchinoe → Hinoto → Hinoe → Kinoto → Kinoe → Hashira.

(For reference, I was a Kanoe at the time).

In my time, any swordsmen below the rank of Tsuchinoto were paid in a wage–like fashion; but instead of it being a fixed rate relative to how many hours one works a job, swordsmen were paid for each assignment they complete. Depending on the calibre of demon defeated, payment could vary, but the minimum wage was at least 10 Yen.

**A/N: 10 Yen back then is equivalent now to about 24 USD, 2,400 modern–day Yen, or 21 Euros. (Information is correct as of 01/07/20).**

That may sound like an absolutely meagre amount – and it really was – but it was enough for a person to just _barely_ get by until the next assignment, of which the intermittent period could last from anywhere between three days and a month, usually a week. But – if you 'failed' a job, you wouldn't get paid. And it was this rule which proved the catalyst for many of my adolescent financial problems.

Since I had flopped my last assignment, I wasn't paid. At all. Of course, this didn't change the fact that I had to go to a hospital to treat my injuries, and pay the horrific amount of subsequent fees. (The demon slayer corps are supposed to take care of your bills in the event of injury, but I didn't know that at the time, and thus didn't lay it off to them. And, back then, there was no butterfly estate to go to.) So, when I was discharged, I was left effectively penniless. A great moolah melancholy, if you will.

So, I did what anyone would, and only could do in my situation; waited in earnest for my next assignment. And when it came, you damn bet I jumped straight on that train bound for Hiroshima – quite literally, since I couldn't afford a ticket.

…

"Oh––"

Youma chuckled, and slapped me on the back. Did I mention how he could do that? It's the same concept as shadow boxing. Since I perceived him as a 'physically existing person', whenever he'd touch me, my body would react accordingly. He poked me, I jerked backwards; he pulled me, I sprung forward. Of course, an observer would just see me being flung around on my own, but Youma and I took great care to prevent that from happening.

"No, I'm being serious. I really can't afford to miss out on another payment. I'm positively broke." I felt tempted to take out my wallet and show him, but then I remembered I didn't have one. Or rather, I didn't need one.

"You worry too much, Giyuu. Worrying will get you nowhere. By the way… was that a pun?"

"…You're steering the topic."

"And what will happen if I stay on it? What am I supposed to do? You're the one with the boots on the ground. If you're really so hard–pressed on what to do, I suggest you ask Urokodaki for a loan again."

I stifled my breath. "You know how he is. And I still haven't finished paying off the last one."

"You don't necessarily have to pay him back. While I understand that you feel obligated to because of your chivalry and _bushid__ō_ and all that, he was a demon slayer too, once. He should be able to understand your situation," Youma replied, "but yeah, I kind of understand. You didn't exactly end your last visit to him on good terms. And there's the question of your ego, too…"

"…"

"And? What about those rest stations? The ones with the wisteria crests on them? Those that cater specifically to demon slayers? Why not just live off those for now?"

"I've exhausted my allowance for those places. I have to complete another job to replenish it." I uttered, sighing.

"Woah," he said, "_you're_ in a rock and a hard place. Why not turn to a life of crime?"

"Perhaps, when I'm feeling naughty. But I'd rather obey the law today."

A protocoled silence ensued, and it was in this that I realised there was no point in hanging around this bamboo forest any longer. Reading my thoughts, Youma opened the conversation once again.

"Why not go down to the sea?"

Indeed – come to think of it, Hiroshima was a coastal city, rather famous for its beaches.

"And do what?" I asked, rather rhetorically.

"Take in the breeze. See the sights. Talk to the people there; gather info on the kidnappings. It is a valuable prospect, no? Especially considering we have all this free time on our hands, and that your… talking crow doesn't seem to be returning anytime soon."

True. When I arrived in Hiroshima two days prior, my Kasugai crow immediately took off, for some reason unbeknownst to me. I assumed he'd just went to receive further orders in order to relay them to me, but, as you can probably infer, that never happened, and I'd been left hanging and restless ever since.

"I guess… that makes sense, yeah."

"Then let's go!"

I reluctantly agreed, and with Youma taking me by the arm, we started our descent.

* * *

The slight scent of salt wafted in the air, and the occasional gale of cool wind provided a refreshing contrast from the thick humidity of the inland. We were nearly there.

With little to shield myself from the beating sun, I trudged along the beaten gravel path with my haori over my head. Youma walked beside me, bobbing his head from side to side to the beat of some melody he was whistling. It sounded familiar, for some reason. Coming upon the crest of the cliff, I stopped, and took in the sight:

A landscape bisected in half; one side a panorama of soft rolling hills, green grass, and quaint farmland, and the other a raging body of water shimmering in the sun, crashing into the shore, a rhythmic banter accompanying it, its saturated blue nature expanding into the horizon. We had arrived by the sea – but something else stuck out in the distance.

Straddling the boundary between ocean and land – was an estate. A sprawling, well-kept estate built in the classical architectural style of the home islands; with a high stone foundation giving way to wooden beams and translucent paper walls. Admittedly, in any 'normal' circumstances, it wouldn't have stood out that much – but this was the countryside – the lethargic, sinfully boring Japanese countryside – and the relative extravagance of the estate, coupled with my knowledge that there had been a series of laws enacted recently that prevented people owning large residential properties, made it quite unusual. The maximum was about 220 square metres (2368 square feet), but this estate looked to well surpass that limit.

…

"Well?" Youma said, "you want to go check out that building?"

"What do you mean, 'check it out'?" I asked.

"You're really such an airhead? What we originally came here to do – check if there's people there, and ask them about the recent disappearances."

"Oh, yeah… _that_." For some reason, I'd forgotten. The heat must've been eating away at my brain.

We slid down the hill towards a road that had been carved into its side; wrapping around its length and weaving into the distance, disappearing at some point amongst the distant, unfathomable horizon. With the sea to our left, and an interminable range of cliffs to our right, we made our way to the estate.

…

Nearly there, Youma, who was walking in front of me, suddenly halted.

"Giyuu? You see that?"

I looked in the direction he was pointing.

"Someone's there," he said.

Indeed – someone _was _there. Though they were still too far off for me to make out their appearance, it was undoubtedly a person.

I feel the need to point this out because the road we were on was unusually desolate. Normally, in summer, people would've been out and about in droves – especially by the sea. Nobody wanted to stay inside and rot in the humidity.

But then – why? Why was it so quiet? It couldn't have been because it was private property, and people weren't allowed on it – for we were on a road, and also, the aforementioned property size limit – so perhaps it was because of the recent disappearances.

Or rather, killings.

Killings – at the hands of a demon.

…

Already, I was beginning to feel restless.

If only, if only–

"Giyuu."

Youma spoke, setting his hand on my shoulder. I was snapped back into reality, and the anxiety that had begun to set in was swiftly dispelled. I already knew what he meant to convey, even in silence.

We continued on.

* * *

Now a bit closer, the features of the person wobbling in the humidity could now by interpreted. And, it was for some inexplicable reason I was taken aback when I saw that…

It was a girl.

A lone girl, dressed in an outfit akin to that of a Shrine Maiden's – a red hakama, and a white kimono. She was clutching a broom, aimlessly sweeping the section of the road in front of the estate, her dainty figure wavering in the heat, and bore the forced composure of one unaccustomed to physical labour.

A girl – with black hair, tied neatly into a bun, a butterfly pin resting on its crest. A girl – who looked very familiar, and yet I couldn't pinpoint why, who, or from where.

I approached her from behind, and she muttered something, though not to me. Something along the lines of, "Tsubone's going to kill me," and "if I don't get this done," and I'm not sure what she meant by that.

I called out to her, and she turned around. Profound amethyst eyes stared deeply into my own, and enchanted me. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words died on my lips; failed to take flight.

"Yes?" she asked. Her voice was so infinitely soft, yet had a belying urgency.

"Umm…"

I stammered. Why was I stammering?

"What're you…"

_Wait. What am I saying? This isn't coming out right._

"…doing?"

She furrowed her brows, arms akimbo, and eyed me with a hazardous gaze. She seemed slightly annoyed.

"Isn't it obvious? Sweeping in this goddamned heatwave."

Call me crazy, but hearing a fair young maiden utter the word 'goddamned' felt wrong to me. Maybe I'm a nice guy after all.

In any case, she seemed eager to get back to work – or rather, to stop talking to me. So, I mustered myself.

"Have you heard about the recent disappearances?"

The girl's expression didn't change.

"Oh, yeah. _That. _Yep, I've heard about them. What about it?"

_Damn… now what to ask?_

"Um… can you tell me what you know about it? I'm… a detective. Sent by the police."

A white lie – one brought on by the spur of the moment, and one that may not have been entirely necessary.

"_You? _A detective? With your crummy jacket and hobo–esque ponytail? All the way out here in the boondocks? Ahahaha!" And she broke down laughing, inexplicably. Her witch–like cackling continued for a while, and I felt my heart bleed dry. I didn't expect such a sweet looking girl to turn out so… sadistic.

_Well, damn. It seems I have overstayed my five–minute welcome._

"Um… sorry, I don't know much, just that it's all people in this area who've disappeared. But there are some people who live further down the road that may be able to tell you more," she explained, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, "I really have to get back to this, so if you'll excuse me, _detective. _Bye–bye!"

_Yes, indeed. 'Bye–bye'._

…_Shorty._

I was getting riled up for nothing by a girl who barely reached my chest. Danger comes in small packages – I think that was the figure of speech? Danger to one's sanity, rather than danger to one's wellbeing. Though, I guess they are interchangeable.

_Hey –__come to think of it, she doesn't look all that old. _

_Roundabout 12–ish, I think?_

_For real, though – what's she doing out here sweeping?_

_She couldn't be an employee of whoever lives in this giant estate._

_Maybe… she's the maiden of the house? The daughter?_

…

_Eh, whatever._

_It doesn't concern me._

_I've gotta get going. That turret clock on the wall tells me… it's half–__past–five. The evening is drawing near._

"Alright, thank you… I guess," I muttered.

"Welcome," she replied, returning to her sweeping, and her murmuring. I didn't consciously eavesdrop, but I still picked up a few words like 'waiting' and 'sister' and… 'Kanae'. I halted, for a second.

'_Kanae'?_

_I don't know a word that sounds like that._

_Must be a name._

'_Kanae'…_

_It sounds oddly familiar._

I returned to trotting along the road, a bit of gloom hanging over me, but I was too absorbed in thought to notice it much. For some reason, what the girl said had stuck with me. I hadn't gotten far when I stopped in my tracks again, pondering.

'_Kanae'…_

_Oh, yeah._

_I think it was the name of that one nice girl I met when I was twelve._

_The one… whose family got killed by a demon._

_On that fateful night._

_Yeah – I could never forget._

…

_I think… it was only her parents who died, if I remember correctly._

_I wonder where she is now._

_No – where __**they**__ are._

_Kanae, along with somebody else, survived._

_I think –_

_I think it was her sister. _

_Yes – she had a sister._

…

_Her sister?_

_Kanae's sister – what was she called?_

_The petite girl with amethyst eyes; the one who donned a butterfly–styled hairpin._

_The one who I found battered and bruised in that garden._

_The one who showed me compassion._

_I think her name was…_

_**Shinobu.**_

…

_..!_

"Don't tell me that's..!" I turned around.

It took me far too long to realise what had been right in front of me all along.

"Shinobu!"

* * *

At first, there was a pause; a pause in which the world seemed frozen around me, and everything was silent. Before the passage of time continued, and the leaves on the trees once again began to beat to the rhythm of the wind; with it, coming the reply.

"Giyuu?!"

For some reason, perhaps due to sheer, inexplicable emotion, I started to run towards Shinobu, arms stretched out. In a flash, I had crossed the length of the road, and had nearly reached her. But then, I started to think. What was I going to do – hug her? Embrace her? No – that'd be far too intimate. I started to recede my open arms in accordance with this, and slowed down – but by then, it was too late. I couldn't stop my momentum, and before I could catch my balance again, I tripped over my feet, crashed into her, and we were sent tumbling to the floor…

_Bash, bash._

"Are you okay, man?"

…Or so I thought.

I pulled my head up from the gritty concrete, brain pounding and vision warping, and was faced with a still–standing, rather bewildered–looking Shinobu. It seemed she had dodged just in the nick of time – to my surprise, since I was sure I'd collided into her. Her hand was extended out to me, brows quirked in surprise, an amused smirk tugging the corners of her lips. Disgruntled, I took her arm, stood up, and dusted myself off.

"Wow, that was quite the fall, huh? Very magnificent–looking."

_Thanks for the input._

"Are you… alright?" she inquired, eyeing me up–and–down.

"…Yeah," I replied. It wasn't like I could say no, anyway.

We retreated into the shade of a chestnut tree, and rested against its trunk, not quite looking at each other, but unable to fully look away, either. At first, I was quite happy to see her. It's always pleasant to come face to face with someone or something from your past, who you'd never thought you'd see again. Just the sheer serendipity of such a thing is enough to bring a person shy joy. But soon, the awkwardity and weariness began to set in, and it was at that point in time I realised – that I had no idea what to say to Shinobu. And it seemed like neither did she, to me, judging from her silence, and shuffling. Our previously lively conversation – had grinded to a halt.

But I was determined to continue it. Even though I was utter trash at communicating with anyone other than Youma. (His words, by the way).

"You've… become older."

"Yeah. I'm twelve now. And you?"

Shinobu eagerly caught on to the conversation, much to my relief.

"Fifteen," I continued, "umm… you've changed quite a lot." I didn't know what else to say, but I still regret saying that nonetheless.

"You too." She replied. "You've become… quite tall."

"Who are you staying with these…" I trailed off, fearing that might've been too sensitive a topic. "I mean, what've you been up to these days?"

She beamed. "I'm training to become a demon slayer!"

Now _that_ took me by surprise…

"A demon slayer? Really?"

…But I guess, considering her circumstances, the death of her parents, and everything else, it shouldn't have. Perhaps my astonishment was due to her not looking anything like a demon slayer – or at least, the general image of one. Burly, crass, rough around the edges, not very talkative… broke; she appeared, and was far from any of these perceptions, much unlike me, who could've been labeled the very embodiment of these stereotypes, minus the rough around the edges part.

"Hey, why don't you come inside? We can catch up there. Have a meal, too. I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" she blabbered, waving her head from side to side, not quite able to keep still, as all children are.

_No, no._

_**That **__–__is far too close for comfort._

I was about to promptly refuse, because I was an edgy fifteen–year–old who was very distrusting of people, for no particular reason – but then my stomach growled and rumbled, and the stark remembrance came over me: I hadn't eaten since last night; courtesy of my forgetfulness, frugalness, and finances. I looked over at Youma, and he eyed me back with an affirmative gaze. _Go for it. It won't hurt. It's Shinobu. You know her._

Sighing, I took her up on her offer, and she led me into the estate.

* * *

In order to escape the beating sun, yet not to relegate ourselves to the humidity and stuffiness of the indoors, we had taken refuge on a balcony that hovered above the landscape, isolated from anything else, and the view it provided was unparalleled; painting–like, so still and so surreal in this stillness that it took my breath away. I looked over at Shinobu. She was splayed across the marble, back leaning against a beam, fanning herself off with her hands, looking sapped as can be and utterly relieved to be out of the heat. Perhaps a bit of that alleviation rubbed off on me, because for the first time in days I felt the hard line on my shoulders soften, and the throbbing in my stomach calm.

And up here – we talked. We talked and talked until the broad daylight melted into a wine–coloured glimmer that enveloped the sky, and until even that faded and dissipated into an all–swallowing, moonlit darkness. We conversed so earnestly, in fact, that I completely forgot my hunger, and Shinobu, her fatigue. Even though, looking back, it was quite a one–sided conversation, of which I offered little to – and indeed I do feel a bit guilty for that – it didn't seem so in that present; in that moment; at that time; in our youthful vitality.

I told her everything that happened to me those past three years, and she did the same. I learned that she was saved by a man named Himejima, her encounter with the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, Ubuyashiki Kagaya, the meeting of her mentor; the Water Hashira Tsubone Endou, and how she'd been training under her ever since, waiting for a chance to enter final selection.

"But Tsubone won't let me," she smiled, sadly. "She says… she says that I'm too weak. That I haven't become strong enough."

Tsubone Endou… from what Shinobu told me, she seemed like quite the harsh character. Stern, flinty, austere, distant, sublime – but not entirely without compassion, she was quick to point out. From her body language, and the slight sparkles in her eyes, though, I could tell Shinobu still deeply admired the woman, and saw her as a bit of an idol.

"But – I guess her standards are high just because she's so strong herself."

I took another sip of my tea – Chinese jasmine tea, that Shinobu had recommended. It had grown cold.

"But where are they now?" I asked, "Kanae and Tsubone – you live with them, right? In this… huge house. But they're not here."

"Oh, that? They're on an assignment right now. Since Kanae has already passed final selection, she sometimes accompanies Tsubone on jobs. To hone her skills, apparently."

"So… they leave you here completely alone? How often do they go on assignments?"

"Once every week or so. They usually only take one to two days to complete, though, so I don't get _too_ lonely. But…"

"Hmm?"

"This time, I'm a bit worried. They've been gone for four days now."

_Is that so?_

_How irresponsible._

"You shouldn't be. Tsubone's a Hashira, right? I'm sure they're fine."

"Heh–heh! I guess you're right," Shinobu replied, lighting up. "By the way, what _are_ you doing in Hiroshima? Are you here to kill some demon?"

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be here for an assignment. I was told I'd be given the details once I'd arrived, but… there's been nothing."

"Oh? But your crow over there looks like he wants to say something."

_My crow?_

_Oh, don't tell me..!_

Indeed, there he was, perched atop the railings, looking so princely and so dignified and so lax it struck a nerve within me I never knew I had. So now he comes back!

I was absolutely ready to come down on him with all force for leaving me hanging those past few days – but I was interrupted by the announcement of something I'd been waiting for far too long:

"_Attention! Attention! Giyuu Tomioka!_

_Head to Nagarekawa–cho in Hiroshima proper._

_Once there, scout out the demon. It is currently posing as a member of staff in the Devils & Saints brothel located in the district._

_Rendezvous with any other demon slayers in the area…_

…_**and eliminate it!"**_

I felt the adrenaline course over me, an arc channel through my lungs, and a torrent of energy gallop under my skin.

_Finally!_

I jumped from my seat, gripped my sword, and slipped into my haori. It was time to go – or so I thought.

"Shinobu, I have to leave now."

"Alright, I'll go get my stuff."

"Yep."

_Wait, what?_

I turned around – but Shinobu was already gone. Coming from the interior of the house, I heard the clashing and clanging of metal, the zips and shuffles of fabrics and clothes, and frantic, light footsteps that scaled up and across the floors and the steps and the rooms repeatedly, until she burst once again onto the open air of the balcony, dressed in demon slayer fatigues and gripping a disproportionately long katana – panting, but allowing a malevolent smirk to creep over her face. I sensed where this was going, and immediately took action.

"No. I refuse."

She looked taken aback.

"But I can fight–"

"There's nothing to prove that."

"How about when I dodged you when you fell–"

"Is knowing how to dodge going to help you kill?"

Youma, who was leaning on the wall opposite us, eyed me with a wary gaze. _Don't be so harsh on her._

I looked back at Shinobu; she bore an expression of bashful disillusionment. She pulled and twisted at her fingers, and couldn't quite look me in the eyes.

"Oh… okay. Nothing to prove that, you say."

I felt a terrible guilt come over me, and averted my own gaze, too. But perhaps I never should have – because as soon as I did, I felt my feet sweep from under me, the weight of my body shift downwards, and short, slim arms restrain me by the neck, driving me into the marble floor, a crash, a snap, and a cry accompanying it.

I tried to get back up, but the cool lethality of a blade pressed to my throat stopped me. Shinobu was there, pinning me down with her bodyweight, holding a knife to my neck, almost caressing me.

If I were being honest – truly, truly honest – it would've been easy for me to escape Shinobu's clinch. Her whole torso open for me to strike, and she'd only managed to restrain a single arm. Her grip was shaky, and weak, and she was holding the knife the wrong way round – but it was the sheer determination in her eyes, and the granite–like expression on her face, that kept me down.

"And what are you going to do with that?" I asked.

"Slit your throat."

"Oh?"

I shot a glimpse at Youma, in the background. "_Giyuu", _he said, since only I could hear him, _"I don't think there'd be any harm in letting her accompany us."_

...Since when did he cross over to the other side of the fence?

"I'm not letting you escape until you agree to let me come with you," Shinobu said, firmly, "this is proof enough that I can fight, right?"

"You just contradicted yourself. I thought you were going to kill me?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!"

"Uh–huh… If you want to go on a mission so badly, why not accompany Tsubone next time she swings around?"

"Tsubone won't let me. I'm still too young."

"You contradicted yourself, again."

Youma stood up from the wall, and leaned next to me, opposite the side Shinobu pinned. _"Think about it," _he said, _"her form's not __**too**__ bad. And she should be at least moderately trained in demon slaying, considering she's been under tutelage for three years by now."_

I gazed at him. _"But," _I protested, in my thoughts, since Youma could read them, _"she'd only get in the way."_

"_No. That isn't what you really think, isn't it?"_

I didn't reply, and turned back to Shinobu.

"Why do you want to go?" I asked.

Shinobu hesitated. "I guess… just for the fun of it."

_Just… for fun?_

_You'd put your life on the line just for the fun of it?_

_This isn't a game, and yet…_

A silence. And then, I began to laugh. I laughed because I was at my wit's end and I had nothing left to say to her, and frankly, in front of someone so insistent, I had to run out of ways to decline eventually, and that time was now.

"What're you laughing for? I'll kill you!"

"No, no, save your energy."

"Huh – you mean?"

I nodded.

"Woah–" she muttered, tone rising in excitement, throwing the knife aside, "you're serious?"

"Mhh–hmm."

Another pause, in which perhaps she registered my words – and then, she beamed with such obvious pleasure, and wide–eyed, childish naivety, that I felt my heart skip a beat. For some reason, I was starstruck. I looked over at Youma, and he was smiling, too.

Perhaps taking her with me – wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"But before that…" I started.

Shinobu snapped to attention.

"…Please get off me."

* * *

**A/N**

**New beginnings, small beginnings. In which our sorry fifteen-year-old hero Giyuu Tomioka is growing more alike to the detached twenty-one year old we all know and love, yet still maintains some humour and amiability. On another note...**

**According to KNY, younger Shinobu is bratty, brash, and in no way bashful - but younger Shinobu _here_ is sweet, just a sliver hard-headed, and a bit shy. But consider this: in the flashbacks shown in the manga and anime (adopting Kanao, Kanae's death), Shinobu was 14, supposedly. Shinobu here is 12. Two years is a long time in which a person can change, and, perhaps in this case, in which an author can stuff character development. ****This A/N is just for those who think Shinobu is OOC here, but don't worry - she'll be back in character, soon enough.**

**Also, notice how similar 12-year-old Shinobu is to a certain someone from the present day_, _whom Giyuu is very close to. Just pointing that out as food for thought.**

**And another thing; looking back, by gosh are my starting chapters terrible. I'd like to think that, throughout the course of writing this fanfiction up until this point, starting from September of 2019, that I've improved my writing, if a bit. That's one of the reasons why I write fanfic in the first place; and I'm sure it's the same case for many other authors. So, I'm going back and rewriting them - at least until chapter four, or five (which I consider bearable to read, and is, up until that point, where the most retcon is found).**


	13. Mystery Thickens, Bonds are Formed

Notes:

Remember that nobody but Giyuu can see, hear or feel Youma, and that they share a one–sided telepathy: Youma can read Giyuu's thoughts.

_Italics _are thoughts, which Youma can read, and will sometimes reply to. But they are not directed to him, specifically.

"Line of dialogue," I thought = thoughts that are directed to Youma.

There are some descriptions of gore in this chapter. For those who are squeamish, I'll indicate where it starts and ends with [].

* * *

**Giyuu's POV**

We were en route to Nagarekawa–cho, the red–light district of Hiroshima. Night had since befallen the frozen sky, and in the perfect black slate not a single star could be seen. The air was cool and relinquished of the stifling humidity that had occupied the day, and in the shimmering silence the eternal city seemed asleep – everything very serene.

Or at least, it should have been.

For truth be told, we were still en route to and not in Nagarekawa–cho because we, Shinobu Kochou, Giyuu Tomioka and Youma (Tomioka?) were totally –

Utterly –

Lost.

A clichéd way to start of this segment, I know. But hear me out.

For the past hour we had wended our way through an interminable and mystically endless network of cavernous alleys, paths, lanes, and avenues, and we had only come to this conclusion when stopping to catch our breath, realising that the ambient blaring and thrumming of the city – which we'd latched on to as comfort that we weren't completely lost – could no longer be heard. My dapper mood had since faded, replaced by what some would call my characteristic gloominess, and even the all-joyful, bubbly Shinobu seemed disheartened. Youma, on the other hand, simply occupied the role of the wallflower. He was impassive and deadpan and not at all his usually talkative self – though I guess it came as a result that the only person he could communicate with was busy being an indignant sulker.

Looking back, I can't help but feel a bit bad for the way I treated him (even if it was indirect), but to try to justify my end of the stick, it was Shinobu who recommended taking a shortcut – the shortcut that would invariably lead to our present dilemma. At first, I was wary, but since she seemed so sure of herself when pointing into that alleyway that bore through the palisade of buildings greeting us upon arriving in the city centre – telling me with beaming confidence that it would 'take only five minutes' – I gave in and followed; partly assured by the fact she lived here and the completely logical assumption that she knew the place better than me.

It seemed, though, that I was wrong.

The alley we had found ourselves in was cavernous and dank, shadowed by the looming black silhouettes of buildings, possessing a peculiar odour that was a mix between rice wine and gasoline. I didn't particularly dislike the smell, but the origin of it was probably something nasty so I forced myself to. The shadows cut by the moonlight seemed clean, and due to it having rained the before, patches of the normally serrated gravel ground had softened into a malleable mud. It was a test of balance to step over them without getting my socks dirty, for I wore open–ended sandals that I had fashioned myself, but after some point, I stopped worrying, and gave in to indifference. On the other hand…

I stopped, and looked over at Shinobu. The girl trundled behind me, staring aimlessly at the sky, ill-fitting clothes dangling off her frame, nose wrinkled like a used serviette and sucking at her thumb so viciously I could hear it from there. _Smooch smooch. _I thought that was a habit people dropped when they were, like, five? I didn't see her do it in those few days we spent together three years prior. Moreover, since she was so short, her scabbard dragged along the ground as she walked, and the scraping sound it made ever so slowly – _bit by bit_ – ate away the remaining sanity I had left. _**S**__k__**r**__r__**r**__r__**r**__r. _To my relief, though, she lifted it whenever crossing a puddle. Why she couldn't just keep it up all the time, I don't know. But one thought led to another, and in my inquisitive nature I began to wonder: where did she get the sword? And the uniform, at that?

Her clothes were clearly too big to be hers, so they must've been Tsubone's or Kanae's, as she didn't mention to be living with anyone besides them. Same went for the sword – or, maybe since Shinobu was training under an active demon slayer, and a Hashira on top of it, she got her blade forged early? Nepotism and all that. Urokodaki only allowed Sabito and I to use wooden swords for the majority of our tutelage; something which would nurture a vehement loathing of all handles wooden due to the countless sores and blisters it gave us. I remember how tough 'n manly we felt when we finally received our own proper blades, complete with sharppp cutting edges and more importantly, clothed handles; because we were young boys and young boys have a subconscious advocacy for anything that is a weapon. I digress, however. I wasn't about to ask Shinobu directly because frankly, I was in no mood to talk to her, or anyone, for that matter. And it wasn't of much consequence to know, anyway.

I didn't resume walking, and Shinobu, not paying attention, bumped into me.

_Careful where you're going, shorty._

She staggered back, and for a second, glared at me as if I was the one at fault. "We're lost," she said. It seemed she had only processed our situation now. "That's bad."

"Oh?" I said, trying to sound as bitter as possible, "I wonder why...?"

She sensed my animosity. "Hey! People make mistakes, you know. I told you, I mistaked that alleyway for another one."

'…_Mistaked?'_

_I wonder, would that be an error of grammar or pronunciation?_

…_Grammar, yeah._

"…That's what they all say," I offered, turning back around. "Now come. Let's get a move on."

"Hmph. Aren't _you_ just the moody character?" she retorted suddenly.

"…What?"

"Nevermind, beanpole. Let's… _get a move on."_

_A… beanpole?_

_Is she calling me skinny?_

And when all of a sudden the certain seemingly foolhardy girl had acquired a vinegar disposition, I found myself taken aback.

_Hmm… like to wag your tongue, eh?_

Youma, who was heading up the convoy, snickered. Considering how bored he must've been, he was probably instigating me to go on – and I might've done so, believe me, but by that point I was too exhausted to do anything but trudge on moodily along that sodden muddy path, head hung down and wondering about my next meal. So, I let it go – for now.

_Say, I could really go for some Salmon Daikon right now._

…_Or anything else, to be honest._

As fate would have it, though, I wouldn't have to continue for much longer.

It happened while Shinobu was berating me – I didn't exactly know for what, but probably for something like not replying her for she was just that kind of person. We came upon a fork in the path of which one lane continued into the interminable twilight, dark and twisted and overgrown with ash-coloured vegetation, and the other leading on and on until ending in a patch of…

Light.

Mind you, for most of the time we'd been lost, we had been submerged in pitch-black darkness. We didn't seem to be in the most well-to-do part of town, as evidenced by the lack of streetlights, proper drainage, and paving, and the only thing preventing us from completely stumbling over our feet was the bare illumination provided by the moon. So, when for the first time in what seemed like an ultimate eternity proper _light _appeared – and a warm, red–hued, utmostly inviting stretch at that – combined with the fact that wherever there was light, there was human activity and thus an exit out of this maze, I found myself drawn to it incorrigibly.

Drawn, in the way that I beckoned Shinobu over –

Brushed past Youma –

Began to run –

And soon, tumbled out into open air.

* * *

'_red–light district'_

_noun_

"_an area of a town or city containing many brothels, strip clubs, and other sex businesses."_

_origin: __late 1800's: from the use of a red light as the sign of a brothel._

Youma recited the definition from his head, squinting up at the sky in an effort to jog his memory, before looking back down and observing the scene before us.

And what a breath–taking display it was.

A narrow road laid before us bearing carriages, cars, and troops carrying _oirans _on their shoulders – and laid out on the roadside were stalls and quaint delis stocking shelves upon shelves of sweets, confections, _Yakitori _(chicken kebabs) and brightly–hued _Dango _(mochi–on–a–stick); floral and savoury scents emanating from in exquisite _kimonos _and _yukatas_ roamed the street, tending to their shops, most seeming to be attached to a business one way or another – but some leaned against the plaster–and–dark–oak walls of the buildings hugging the pavement, whispering into the odd _yūjo's_(prostitute's) ear, sometimes handing them wads of cash and beckoning them inside. The scene had an ecstatic, zealous air, and countless red lanterns hanging from the ceilings basked it in a smouldering ember hue. I looked up at a turret clock: it was 10:30 in the evening, and the late–night rush had just begun.

"Yep, definitely fits the criteria," Youma announced.

_Nagarekawa–cho, eh?_

Shinobu was mesmerised even more so than I was – in particular, the hot plates of simmering pork caught her eye. It seemed that the hunger had caught up to her, too, judging by the gaping 'o' of her mouth, and the way she stared silent and still. One thought led to another, and then I remembered that she too had skipped supper – but I kept quiet. I barely had enough money to pay for my own meals, let alone hers. Snapping back to reality, I spoke up: "Let's go, Shinobu."

"Hmm? To where?"

"To Devils and Saints. Do you… happen to know where it is?"

_Of course she doesn't, Giyuu. You're asking a twelve–year–old girl the location of a brothel._

"No, I don't… sorry," she replied. "Tsubone tells me to stay away from the red–light district, so I've never been here before. But what kind of place is it? Maybe she's mentioned it at some point."

_Well if she has, I'd be quite worried._

"…A brothel," I replied.

Shinobu looked a bit confused: "A bro…thel? What's a bro–"

"If you don't know, then it's fine. Let's just ask around." I didn't want to reach the point in a conversation where I would have to explain what _that_ was to a kid, so I cut our talk short.

I examined the scene for any potential sources of intel, and caught sight of a rather extravagant–looking woman leaning on a beam. She eyed me warily as I approached her, before standing up and confronting me. "Business?" she asked. Her jeweled headpiece jangled when she spoke.

"No. No business," I replied, waving her off, "but I want to ask you something. Do you know where Devils and Saints is?"

At first, her expression was one of mild irritation, but the instant I mentioned the name 'Devils and Saints', it turned into one of great concern, and above all, fear. She sized me up again, before coming close and whispering to me: "Sweetie, nobody's heard that name in months. And you best keep it that way – _for your own good._" She then brushed past me, and disappeared into the crowd.

_Strange…_

"Tch. What's wrong with _her?_" Shinobu muttered.

"No matter. Let's ask somebody else." And we moved on.

Over the course of the next half hour we asked and asked every conceivable character in the district the same question: 'Do you know where Devils and Saints is?', but they would always reply the same thing: 'Don't talk about that place' or something along those lines, and then run off with their tails between their legs. Once again, I began to grow weary. I started to doubt whether we were in Nagarekawa–cho at all; there were no signs or anything to confirm our location thus far, and it's not like Youma could verify it, either, as he'd never been in Hiroshima before. Shinobu did eventually chime in and say that there was only one red–light district in the city, but by that point I didn't know whether to trust her as an accreditable source of information, so I took her words with a grain of salt and a tablespoon of wariness. In any case, it didn't change the fact that everybody I talked to seemed to think too highly of themselves or were too jittery to divulge any information to my humble cause. Being my ultimately negative self, I began to think that the world was just against me that day.

"It seems that the devil controls the business of my life," I muttered, sitting somewhere with my head in my hands. Shinobu stared at me with this deprecative look in her eyes, as if I'd said something disturbing. "Are you quoting Bolívar?" she asked in a by–the–way tone. I asked who that was, but she dismissed me. Strange girl.

…After some time, we found our way into a comparably desolate avenue – a place where the hustle, bustle and tussle of the district barely reached, and in which the mysterious silence and unlikened stillness a few shady–looking individuals sat with their backs against the wall, puffing on pipes that were attached to some engraved metallic tube, which I'd later learn was called a _hookah_. Holding my breath in, I walked up to them.

"Do you…" I wiped my face, tired after asking the same question hundreds of times and because I was going to do it again. "Do you know where Devils and Saints is?"

I braced myself for the inevitable denial – but it never came. Instead, they stared at me auspiciously, and the hooded woman in purple robes sitting at the head of the group – whom held the air of the ringleader – spoke up.

"You guys demon slayers?" She had a bold and virtuous voice.

Even though I had no reason to be, I was immediately weary. My hand found its way to the grip of my sword.

"Relax – I can tell by your uniforms. Even if the government doesn't recognise you people, you're still relativelywell known among the populace."

_Uh–huh…_

"…"

"Oh! Don't get so touchy!" She chortled heartily. "Umm… regarding your question; it's just over there."

I was genuinely taken back, not so much befuddled as I was surprised, when she answered. The woman stood up from her seat and pointed towards the end of the street, where the road disappeared turning right behind a mass of decrepit wooden hardware. She then turned to me.

"I don't know why kids would wanna go to a strip club – I'm guessing it's just part of an assignment? I hope so. In any case, be careful. Many terrible things have happened in that place, which I'm sure you've already inferred by now. It's been closed for a few months already, but whenever I walk past it… umm… I don't know, it just gives me bad vibes. So be careful."

_Closed?_

_I wasn't told that._

_But I guess it makes some sense…_

_And the breath in which this woman is talking about the club… some bad event or string of events must've been the cause for the closure._

"Well… thank you. We will," I said, gesturing Shinobu over. We were about to leave when the lady stopped her, and threw a dark, pebbly–looking thing into her hands.

"It's a sweetie," she said, "a date covered with chocolate. Have one."

Shinobu stared at the confection in her palm for a second, before beaming. "Thanks!" she said, popping it into her mouth.

_None for me? I see how it is._

…_In any case, how naïve._

_I wouldn't eat anything given to me on these streets._

She waved the woman goodbye, and we continued on.

* * *

'Devils and Saints', huh? I can't believe I'm saying this, but at the time, I thought the name had a nice ring to it, if not a bit too… innocent, considering the area we were in. Of course, that only proved beneficial, due to Shinobu having tagged along. I wouldn't have wanted some overly amorous phrase to be stuck in her memory after this whole experience, and suddenly be let out in the presence of Tsubone. From what Shinobu told me, she seemed a woman who could dish out vehement punishment. Tsubone would've probably came after me once learning I'd corrupted the innocence of her dear, pure apprentice – her, and maybe Kanae. Hell, they might've done it anyway just for taking her along.

That is, if I was still alive after all of this.

I wasn't the type of person to get jittery about much. That stemmed from having spent a good chunk of my adolescent nights out alone in the woods, due to having no money for a hotel nor credit for a rest station. And let me tell you this: the forest at twilight is a scary place. There're the wolves, the snakes, the hobos, the cockroaches (the lattermost which I continue to have a deadly phobia of), and the ever–present fear of the odd gangster or highwayman jumping you in your sleep. After spending so much time out in the boondocks, though, I eventually formed a tolerance towards those things mentioned, and against most of anything else that I might've previously perceived as frightening.

But this –

None of this seemed right.

Everything about this place –

Reeked of death.

We were standing before the brothel situated at the end of the street; a decrepit and seedy complex situated in an eerily quiet part of the neighbourhood. The spiny and gaunt wood of the building creaked under its own weight, and the few windows breaking up the imposing walls were misty with dust and shattered in all places with cobwebs lining the gaps. A sign painted with ominous black and red lettering hung from one failing screw pinned to the bottom of the balcony identified the fine establishment: 'Devils and Saints'. The latter word was written in crazy–looking, all–caps font. If I had to guess the age of the structure… maybe 50, 75 years old? It wasn't a very Japanese–esque building, so it must've been built by the American expeditionaries that came over in the mid–1800's or so. But for them to have raised a house in such a backwater part of a town that wasn't really charted by them in the first place was quite strange – if I'm remembering correctly the history Youma taught me.

"Woah," Shinobu muttered, "creepy." She was fixated on the building, yet in spite of her comment, didn't seem fazed in the slightest, and was more absorbed in strange childish wonder, which only made me – who was trying to keep my fear from seeping out – feel like a wuss. I quivered a bit with the thought of having to go in there, and turned to Shinobu.

"Ladies first," I said, motioning towards the building, having figured out a roundabout way to ask her to go first; disguise one's request as simple gentlemanliness. She seemed the type to fall for that.

"What?" Shinobu rebuked. "No. You go. I'll stay here."

…Yet it didn't work on her. She returned my proposal with another proposal that contradicted her first proposal of wanting to accompany me; although I guess I should've come to expect something like that from her at that point. Nevertheless, I was still disgruntled: "Weren't you the one who wanted to come along in the first place?"

"And...? What's your point?" Shinobu eyed me with arms folded across her chest, like a boss staring down at a foolish employee who just asked for raise (or staring up, in this case). Pardon the specific example, but I'm sure you get the idea.

…

_I'm – speechless._

"You know what… never mind," I relented, not in the state of mind to fight with a fiery midget on her own terms. "I'll go."

"Wait. I'll stay behind, too," Youma chimed in. "If you go inside by yourself, it's, erm… good psychological training. To face your fears."

I gave him the side eye, but chose not to reply.

I trotted up the splitting plank stairs and twisted the brass doorknob, only to find that the door was stuck. I glanced over at Shinobu and a hovering Youma one last time – looking to see if they were watching, which they weren't – before bracing myself and kicking the lock with all the might I could muster in my leg. The panel swiveled open, and with my hand curled over the grip of my sword, I stepped inside.

* * *

The room I found myself in seemed to be a lobby of sorts; it was compact, had various torn velvety Chaise lounges and ottomans lining its low walls, and hanging from the eroded ceiling was a frazzled chandelier that appeared on the verge of falling. The place looked abandoned in every sense of the word, and the air inside was cold and silence deafening. Navigating around the chandelier's presumed area of impact, with each step I took kicking dust up from the floor, it didn't take long for me to notice the terrible, rotten smell filling the interior. The stench was too powerful to just be the result of rotting wood. Opposite where I stood there was an archway that led into what I presumed was the main compartment of the building – what little light illuminated the foyer failed to reach there, however, so I couldn't judge from where I was. As a result, the only way to know for sure – a fact I begrudgingly accepted – was to go in there.

Gulping, I tightened the grip around my sword. My joints fastened, and each time I forced myself another step forward they snapped and shrieked and the sound slowly gnawed into my head and lit the spark of fear in my conscience. Something was buzzing in my ear; burning in my body. For some reason, I was immensely, inordinately afraid. Not afraid of who or _what_ might've been lying in wait for me…

But afraid of what I might find.

Despite the lobby being dead quiet, the silence in the next room managed to feel even more eerie. But the unnerving reticence was broken up by something I never wanted to hear: the sound of liquid splashing. A muted, viscous splash that sounded itself with each step I took, indicative of a shallow pool. I couldn't identify exactly what it was, due to it being pitch black and not being able to see anything below my knees – but admittedly, I already had a pretty good guess. The miry liquid and sound accompanying it became deeper and more pronounced the further I went into the room, and straying from the main path, I traced the right–hand wall, my hand finding its way onto a handle attached to a shutter. With bated breath, I pulled it open, and let the moonlight shine in.

Nothing would've prepared me for what I saw next.

[]

Atop the podium comprising the far side of the room, and strapped to the pole merging platform and ceiling with a rope was the desecrated corpse of a woman. Her abdomen had been slit open, gleaming, pulsating entrails having been wrapped around her twisted form, reminiscent of a vermillion boa coiling its sorrowful prey. The way they curled in and out of her body seemed almost alive. Her limbs appeared splayed, and broken, like the branches of a battered tree, yet were ripe with bursting purple sores evidence of a beating. The colourless head that hung limp from her neck bore atop it an extravagant jeweled headpiece that contrasted with her rudimentary, working–class clothes. I confirmed my suspicions that what I'd waded in before was blood; a trail of it, getting progressively deeper and broader, edges having dried in a crust already, stretched from the archway until ending in a thick pool at the foot of the body. The entirety of the podium was drenched in it, and the crimson hue of it was only magnified in the moonlight.

[]

I staggered back with my hand lifted to my mouth. The contents of my stomach threatened to upturn itself, and even if I knew there was nothing to retch I still bent over in the corner of the room, shameful, in my perceived masculinity at the time, that I could not endure such a sight, but most of all afraid, and sorrowful for the woman that had to die such in such a torturous and dishonourable way. After the nausea had quelled somewhat, my mind began to warp in and out of every possibility I could conceive in my hurried mental state at the time. Was it the demon I'd been sent after who was responsible for this? If so, then why? Why'd he just leave her body here, instead of eating her? The way she was posted up was clearly intentional, and meant for someone to discover – could it be that he was expecting Demon Slayers to come after him? Even if that was the case, it wouldn't make any more sense. Perhaps it was meant to symbolise something, but then what? And most of all, **who?! **And–

But before I had any more time to process the situation –

I heard the wooden beams of the ceiling crack above me –

And in the corner of my eye, saw someone descend from the darkness –

A massive, unearthly silhouette of a man –

Falling through the air –

And descending right upon me.

He landed knee–first onto my spine, and I heard a vicious crack, something in my ears pop, and my body went limp for a second; the grip on my sword vanished, and the pulsating nausea in my stomach disappeared. Sensation soon returned, however, and in response to the searing pain that arose in my back, soaking into my extremities, I screamed. Through my cry, however, I barely heard the metallic shing of a blade unsheathing. Before the mysterious assailant could drive it through me, I steeled myself, distancing my mind from the agony, and elbowed him in the stomach. Squirming out of his grip, I swiveled around and threw him off me with all the power I could muster in my legs. The man flew to the other side of the room with fearful momentum, throwing up dust as he zoomed past, but it appeared that it was the result of dodging rather than my kick. He landed with utmost grace in front of the platform, and in the moonlight and split second he was still, I saw the lascivious white locks, maroon eyes, and the powerful, yet supple figure; realising, with great surprise, that it was the man who I'd encountered in the bamboo forest during the day. He no longer donned the off-white cloak, and he held in his hands a beautiful hooked bronze dagger embedded with jewels that painted its surroundings in a shimmering glow. He must have hidden his weapon in his clothes when we first met. Following an almost instantaneous line of thought, however, my astonishment quickly faded, battle spirit was ushered in, and clamouring to my feet, sword in hand, I stanced myself in anticipation for a fight.

_So – it's that easy, huh?_

_This is the fastest I've ever found a demon!_

Judging from the man's quirked brow and shocked expression in his eyes, he seemed to recognise me, too, and opened his mouth to speak. But before any words could take flight, any phrase could manifest itself, I crossed the distance and hurled myself at him: close enough that my _katana _would reach him, but still far enough that he wouldn't be able to retaliate.

But I wouldn't allow him to even do that – I twisted my hands and perched my sword above me: the stance for a slash, as I had learned from Urokodaki. Then, I swung down with full force. Edge met edge, blade hit blade, sparks flew into the air, and there was the sound of metal grinding: he had barely parried me. But I thought nothing of it at the time, for his grip was waning, and I could feel myself overpowering him. I forced the tip of my sword away from me, towards his body, and with deceitful confidence, prepared to thrust – but in a striking move, the man maneuvered his dagger and used the crevasse on the edge to hook onto my sword, pulling it down. Since all my power was focused into pushing the tip of the blade, I could do little to stop the lateral movement. I missed his body by a hair's length, and unable to halt my momentum, the sword was lodged into the wooden floor.

After that, it wasn't really a fight. Unable to dodge, and without thinking to let go of my _katana_, a fist was slammed into my stomach, and I could hear something break, some of my flesh tear, perhaps even my ego shatter into pieces. I was struck over the head with something hard, and a liquid warmth began to trickle down my neck, before I collapsed to the floor, eyelids fluttering, things blending into one another and eventually sliding into darkness.

* * *

...

... ...

... ... ...

"…thought he was a girl…"

_Someone is talking._

"…we agreed to keep this covert…"

_Two people; a man and a woman._

"…but they're Demon Slayers…"

_A disintegrated, broken conversation I can barely follow._

"…does that have to do with anything?"

_A fight, it seems. Perhaps even a lover's quarrel._

"…they're after the same thing as us…"

_And I'm smack–dab in the middle of it all._

"…you know how the Demon Slayers deal with those who interfere with their business? I'm telling you…"

Something snapped, and I was wrung out of lucidity.

…_Wha–what?_

_Woah – what's that?_

…_Shittt, man._

_My head… my damn head...! It hurts like hell! Lord in heaven…!_

_Wait._

_What… was I doing?_

_That's right!_

_I was out on an assignment!_

Brain pounding like a clenched fist, ears ringing, body numb and in a state of not-so-blissful-wakefulness, my eyes shot open, before being scorched and etched into by a burning white light the sting of which was only amplified by my delirium. When the flash had subsided, however, I was faced with a most uncanny scene: a bickering couple, taking centre–stage in an unfamiliar room, comprised of the man who I recognised as the one who I'd encountered in the bamboo forest, and a scantily–dressed woman whom I presumed was his lover; a sleeping girl in the far corner, tied up with cord and yet possessing an expression of soft ecstasy as she snoozed, butterfly clip hanging off her disheveled hair; and a man who leaned against the wall opposite me, green eyes half–narrowed, invisible to everyone but myself, appearing as if he was waiting for something, or someone. I examined the room a bit more – it was this dingy cabin; small, decrepit, with peeling green walls broken up by a translucent panel to my left, from where the light shone through, and an oily wooden floor sparsely populated by furnishings – and it took me only a few moments to realise two seemingly trivial, yet critical things: one, that I was tied to a chair and could not move, and two, that it was broad daylight, and my last pounding recollection was of being in a brothel in the middle of the night. After failing, though not for lack of trying, to put two and two together, my attention turned to Youma. He smiled in response.

"You're awake, Giyuu," he said, "try not to move too much. They'll notice you're up – even if they seem so very absorbed in their squabble."

"Youma...? What happened?" I thought, keeping my head down.

Indeed, another symptom of Youma's condition was that it if I was unconscious, he could (by choice) remain awake to loll around the immediate area around me; of course, being still unable to interact with the environment. Either that, or he could project a dreamscape up for me and we could talk freely inside there while I slept, like how we used to do when I first met him.

"_What happened?_ You were knocked out in a fight and brought over here by your best man; that clown–looking guy, with the white hair and rose eyes. You _do_ remember…?"

The bitter memory of being pummeled into the ground came back to me, and I scowled a bit. So yes, I did remember.

"Oh, yeah… _that_."

"Don't worry, there's always next time…" Youma cooed.

There was a pause, before I remembered: "Wait, isn't _he_ the demon we're looking for?"

"Nope," Youma replied, "I saw them walk in the sun with my own eyes. You mustn't have been thinking clearly back then."

…

_So it's a dead end, huh?_

"And, what about Shinobu? How'd she end up here?" I thought. It was a question which I'd already inferred the answer to, but still asked for the sake of changing the subject.

"Hmm? Your lady–friend? While I was waiting outside for you, she started nodding off, and by the time your scream came, she was already fast asleep. I'm guessing that date–thingy she ate has something to do with it. Your attacker came out of the brothel carrying you on his shoulder, and suddenly, the lady who gave you directions appeared too; that one with the purple hood. They had an argument on the street – about whether or not to bring you with – and it got dangerously loud, to the point where it attracted a crowd even in that deserted part of town, so they took off with you guys, assuming that the police weren't far behind. I followed them, and they led me to their hideout – where you are right now. Thereafter, they continued their fight. From night, until now. It's a shame you didn't wake up sooner; as well as a miracle. It was quite the _magnificent_ altercation they had."

_The lady who guided me?_

_So… they're in league with each other? _

_I don't quite know what to make of that, and it doesn't explain why Shinobu was given that tranquiliser…_

_But, on another topic, why was the man in the brothel in the first place?_

_Don't tell me – he's the murderer?_

"No… I don't think so," Youma said, reading my thoughts. "From what I understand of the conversation they had while you were asleep, he isn't. Neither is the lady. Nevertheless, they still seem to be linked to the murder in some way."

"Oh, okay…" I thought.

"In any case, Giyuu, I'll have to get back to you," Youma said, "looks like your new friends have taken note of your awakening, so adieu, adios, auf wiedersehen, for now. And… try to use the route of diplomacy this time, eh? Maybe you'll actually get off scot–free for once if you do."

"Huh? What? Youma?"

His hurried tone sent a chill through my bones, and I began to feel a bit nervous. Taken note of my awakening? But how? I've stayed completely still all this time. No… it must be another one of Youma's sick jokes. His sense of humour has forever been an enigma to me. Where could he go, anyway? And–

** "Hi."**

Before I knew it, I felt the shadow of prying loom over me, my peripheral vision in which I framed Youma was obstructed, and there he was: my assailant, menacing as all and ever, right up in my face, so close that I could feel his breath tickle behind my ears, spirit of gross intimidation palpable to the point where it made me shudder.

We were still, for a few seconds, but they were seconds that felt like eternities, and as neither party was willing to make a move, they were awkward in addition to being prolonged. Even though I shouldn't have expected anything less, I still shrunk in my seat under the oppression imbued by the man's presence, and the fear stemming as a result of being tied down and the realisation that I was totally at my captor's mercy. And yet, despite fully knowing how vulnerable I was, the cancerous mentality I had at the time of 'being a man' still managed to weave its way into my head: be self–sufficient, be a bad–ass, and you will get your way. In simpler terms: defeat your enemy with humour. Not that I had much sense of it, but – I could try.

So – summoning up the courage, that I did. I faced up to the man, and stared him dead in the eyes:

"Yo."

…

He looked surprised, and backed away.

"So you _were _awake…"

_Wait, he wasn't sure?_

Youma snickered in the background, a brief pause followed, and then I realised.

_You don't mean…_

…

…_Damn you, Youma…!_

_So it was a prank…!  
_

The apple–eyed fool waved me off, and disappeared into the wall, taking my newfound confidence with him.

_Now what?!_

"Woah… you okay?" the man said. "You're staring into space… hey!"

He flicked me over the forehead.

"Goddammit… must be because I hit you too hard," he muttered to himself.

_Yeah, well hitting me again isn't going to solve the problem._

…_Dumbass._

His significant other seemed to come to the same conclusion as me, as she pulled him away and slapped him over the cheek. I can't say I felt bad for him, but witnessing the supersonic speed at which the hand met his face, and the deadly cracking sound that accompanied it, it was more of a second–hand pain.

…For people holding two minors captive, they sure acted like they were the children.

Another small quarrel ensued – an argument as about as petty and asinine as somebody washing their window on a rainy day, pardon the simile – until someone said something significant, they were silent for a while, before the man turned away from her, ponderous:

"Then, should I kill them?"

My heart stopped.

The woman didn't immediately reply. "Do whatever you want. I'm going to make breakfast." And she exited the room.

My humour soon dissipated when I realised I was facing a very real life–and–death situation. Even though I had always considered dying an unavoidable professional hazard… everyone does, until they come face–to–face with the threat of it. Talk the walk, walk the talk – I think that's the figure of speech, but it sounds stupid, so to put it in other words: everyone's a big, lean, killing machine until they're not. People who've traded the substance for the shadow, so to speak. Tenacious in theory, a wimp in practice. And admittedly, despite my tough, cold, perceivably cool demeanour at the time, fifteen–years–old Giyuu Tomioka…

Was about the biggest coward of them all.

The man unsheathed his knife, and ever so slowly, waded over to me, gripped me by my hair – not too tight, but with enough force that I wouldn't be able to move – and placed the edge right to the crest of my neck. The coolness of the metal almost burned me. Sweat started to trickle down my face. My heart froze, breathing slowed to a hush, a crawl, before stopping altogether. And then –

"Just – kidding!"

The tension was shattered into pieces.

He made his way behind me, and in two seamless moves, slit the rope restraining my hands, and then the one around my feet. For a second, I couldn't believe it. He slapped me on the back with full force, effectively forcing me out of the chair, then dancing over to a still–sleeping Shinobu and cutting her cord as well, before skipping back to me with an unnervingly excited expression on his face.

"Well, well, did I get you?" he asked.

"Sure. With the death stare, hair–grabbing, and knife to the neck? Yeah, yeah you got me." No amount of modulation could hide the trembling in my voice.

I wasn't very happy about any of it, but, comical as it may sound, I was still grateful to be alive, so I took the nasty joke as compensation for keeping my life. Regardless, I instinctively started looking for a way to escape, but when I remembered that Shinobu was there, and that running away would mean having to leave her behind, the notion was shut down promptly. It didn't help that the man was blocking off the only way out of the room, either; and considering how our encounter went last time – despite whatever excuse my pride could make up explaining my loss – I wasn't about to engage him head–on, again. Despite the arrogance that my adolescence had brought, I still retained some semblance of rationality.

"Oh! Pardon that! It was only to add spice to the illusion."

_I get the impression that him choosing to let me live was a split–second decision._

_In any case, I'm not going to ask why he kept me alive._

_That might reset some gear in his brain, and then he'll change his mind. Hell, he might change his mind just on his own, from what I've seen so far. The inner ruminations of a madman._

…_That's why, when Shinobu wakes up, we'll run._

_But for now – I'll probe him for info on the murders. See what I can extract before I bolt it._

"Your stuff's over there, in the corner. Wake the girl up, too." He pointed to a bench, and leaning against it were my and Shinobu's swords. It made sense he disarmed me, but to give back the weapon of the man he'd just released from captivity? I wasn't about to protest, though. If anything, it would've just made my job easier – that being, to stab him in the back while he wasn't–

"Oh–" As I was holstering my katana to my belt, he gripped my arm. "and if you try anything funny, you'll be dead before you know it. You – and your girlfriend."

I returned his glare, and for a while the air was so thick and so brittle, I couldn't even find it in myself to retort to how he thought Shinobu and I were a couple. Soon, though, his expression softened once more, and he relented.

"Annnddd with that said and done, come on! Let's eat! I am _flamboyantly_ famished."

_Yeah. And if you don't get your hand off me within the next five seconds, I'm going to flamboyantly cut off your arm._

…

…_Wait, did he say 'eat'?_

"My girlfriend – her name's Hinatsuru – cooks _really _well, so I'm sure even you'll like whatever she whips up."

I didn't know what he dropped the 'even' in there for, but then I felt my stomach rumble, the dizziness begin to creep up on me, and my knees wobble under my weight, and ironically, when they suddenly gave away, the man's grip on my arm was the only thing that stopped me from falling.

"Woah! You alright? You mustn't have eaten for a few days by now." His deduction was eerily accurate. "While you were sleeping, your stomach wouldn't stop rumbling. We almost felt sorry for you, keeping you tied up like that."

_Almost, huh?_

"Well, before we eat, there's something we need to get out of the way first," he said, childish smile fading and giving way to a deliberate expression. I perked my head up. "Tell me… what is your name?"

A sensible question – but when he had asked it, I still saw him through the lens of adversity; as an enemy. Yet in the moments I saw the earnest eyes, witnessed the sincerity in his tone, and felt the firmness of the hand that was now gripping mine in a gesture of amiability, I could not help but thaw to the man who, despite being my captor, was treating me with kindness which I perceived could not have been anything but genuine. With this in mind, I then presented my reply:

"Giyuu. Giyuu Tomioka."

And he grinned once again.

"**Tengen Uzui. I'll tell you all you need to know."**

Enter:

– Tengen Uzui –

– Age: seventeen years–old –

– Occupation: freelance _shinobi_, fashion designer –

– Side hustle: menace to society –

But for now – a reluctant comrade.

* * *

**Woohoo! Happy one year anniversary. Even if it is two days late.**


End file.
